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BERMUDA. 


***  The  germ  of  this  hook  was  an  article  called  “ Ber- 
mudian Days  ” that  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
for  December,  1883.  It  is  incorporated  with  these 
pages  by  permission  of  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin 
and  Company . 


BERMUDA 


tAN  IDYL  OF  THE  SUMMER  ISLANDS 


BY 

JULIA  C.  R.  DORR 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIRNER’S  SONS 
1884 


F |(o3  I 

urn 

Copyright,  1884 , 

By  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS . 

*69902 


The  Riverside  Press , Cambridge : 
Electrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  & Co. 


To 

H.  R.  D., 

My  comrade  and  compagnon  de  voyage , thfs  story  of  our 
Bermudian  days  is  most  affectionately  dedicated. 

J.  C.  R.  D. 

“The  Maples,”  Rutland,  Vt., 

September  8 , 1884. 


“In  the  afternoon  they  came  unto  a land 
In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon. 

Eating  the  Lotus  day  by  day, 

To  watch  the  crisping  ripples  on  the  beach, 

And  tender  curving  lines  of  creamy  spray. 

All  day  the  wind  breathes  low  with  mellower  tone 
Through  every  hollow  cave  and  alley  lone 
Round  and  round  the  spicy  downs  the  yellow  Lo 
tus  dust  is  blown.,, 


BERMUDA. 


« 

I. 

Three  feet  of  snow,  the  thermometer  at 
zero,  bitter  March  winds,  and  remembrances 
of  the  slow  coming  of  the  New  England  spring. 
To  sit  in  the  sun  and  be  idle  seemed  best  of 
all  things.  But  where  should  we  go  ? 

“ Now  is  your  time  to  go  to  Europe,”  said 
our  friends,  one  and  all.  “ The  very  accepted 
time.  Nothing  could  be  better.  You  are 
neither  of  you  good  for  anything  here  ” (which 
was  very  complimentary) ; “ the  voyage  will 
set  you  up,  and  you  will  come  home  new  crea- 
tures. Telegraph  for  state-rooms  at  once.” 

Europe  ! The  very  thought  was  overpower- 
ing. What,  then,  would  the  fact  be  ? 

Two  of  us  lay  awake  all  night  to  think  of  it. 
W^e  climbed  the  Alps,  veiled  our  faces  before 
the  awful  splendor  of  Mont  Blanc,  trembled  on 
the  verge  of  dizzy  heights,  shrank  back  from 
fathomless  abysses,  picked  our  way  across  the 
Mer  de  Glace,  and  cowered  beneath,  the  weight 


2 


BERMUDA. 


of  the  whole  incumbent  mass  of  mountains  as 
we  went  through  the  tunnel.  We  wearily  trav- 
ersed miles  and  miles  of  picture  galleries,  stood 
in  damp  cathedrals,  lifted  awestruck  faces  to 
more  than  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the  World, 
wandered  over  battle-fields  gay  now  with  yellow 
wheat  and  scarlet  poppies,  visited  the  shrines 
of  saints  and  martyrs,  museums  rich  with  the 
storied  spoil  of  ages,  and  libraries  in  whose  dim 
alcoves  the  wisdom  and  learning  of  the  whole 
earth  was  garnered. 

In  the  morning  we  compared  notes,  — we 
two  who  were  ordered  off  together. 

“ No,  thank  you,”  we  said  to  our  friends  ; 
“ no  Europe  for  us  this  time.  There ’s  too 
much  of  it.” 

“ But  you  need  not  try  to  do  or  to  see  every- 
thing,” they  answered.  “ Just  go  over  and  set- 
tle down  somewhere,  and  take  it  easy.” 

“ And  be  forever  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of 
lost  opportunities,”  we  answered ; “ tantalized 
by  the  daily  and  nightly  thought  of  what  we 
are  missing.  We  have  no  strength  to  waste 
in  vain  regrets.  We  must  go  somewhere  where 
we  can  do  all  there  is  to  do,  and  all  we  want 
to  do  ; where  there  is  enough  to  interest  us, 
enough  to  enjoy,  and  yet  where  we  can  be  just 
as  lazy  as  we  please  without  any  pricks  of 
conscience.  Where,  oh  where,  shall  we  find 
this  Eden  ? ” 


BERMUDA. 


3 


We  went  to  Bermuda.  The  road  to  Paradise 
is  rough  and  thorny.  Beautiful  Bermuda  sits 
upon  her  coral  reefs,  guarded  by  waters  that 
are  not  to  be  lightly  ventured.  Crossing  the 
Gulf  Stream  diagonally  is  not  conducive  to 
ease  of  mind  or  body.  Given  the  passage  of 
the  English  Channel  intensified  and  stretched 
out  over  four  days  instead  of  four  hours,  and 
you  have  the  voyage  from  New  York  to  Ber- 
muda. The  less  said  about  it  the  better. 

But  beyond  Purgatory  lies  Paradise.  We 
left  New  York  on  a Thursday  in  March.  On 
Sunday  morning  (Easter  Sunday  of  1883), 
those  of  us  who  were  on  deck  saw  a wonderful 
transformation  scene,  as  the  Oronoco  passed 
from  the  dark  and  turbulent  billows  of  the 
Atlantic  into  the  clear  blue  waters  of  the  land- 
locked harbor  of  Bermuda.  There  was  no 
gradual  blending  of  color.  On  one  side  of 
a sharply  defined  line  was  the  dull  black  of 
molten  lead ; on  the  other  the  bright  azure 
of  the  June  heavens.  One  by  one  the  white 
and  haggard  passengers  crept  on  deck.  How 
they  mocked  at  the  delusion  of  pleasure  travel 
at  sea ! How  they  protested  that  the  dry  land 
would  be  good  enough  for  them  after  this ! 
Yet  in  three  days’  time  these  same  passengers 
were  chartering  whale-boats,  sail-boats,  yachts, 
steam-tugs,  anything  that  would  take  them  far 


4 


BERMUDA. 


out  among  the  reefs,  where  the  ocean  swell  was 
heaviest.  So  blessedly  evanescent  is  the  mem- 
ory of  sea-sickness ! 

The  Bermudas  are  a cluster  of  small  islands 
lying  in  latitude  320  20'  N.  and  longitude  64° 
41'  W.  They  are  as  far  south  as  Charleston  ; 
as  far  east  as  Nova  Scotia.  There  is  said  to  be 
no  habitable  land  so  isolated  on  the  face  of  the 
round  globe,  unless  it  may  possibly  be  St.  He- 
lena. Even  this  possibility  is  denied  by  many 
who  claim  for  Bermuda  the  supremacy  by  a few 
feet  or  inches.  Let  some  exact  statistician  get 
out  his  little  tape  measure  and  decide  the  mo- 
mentous question. 

The  islands  lie  northeastward  to  southwest- 
ward,  in  the  form  of  a fish-hook,  or  a shepherd’s 
crook,  twenty-five  miles  from  end  to  end,  and 
fifteen  miles  in  a straight  line.  It  is  claimed 
that  there  are  three  hundred  and  sixty- five  of 
them,  one  for  each  day  in  the  year.  But  in 
this  count,  if  count  it  is,  are  included  many  so 
minute  that  a single  tree  would  shade  their 
whole  circumference.  The  five  largest  are  St. 
David’s,  St.  George’s,  the  Main  Island,  or  the 
Continent,  as  it  is  occasionally  called,  Somer- 
set, and  Ireland’s  Island.  St.  George’s  lies  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  crook  ; Ireland’s  at  the  ex- 
treme point.  The  reputed  area  of  the  whole 
group  is  only  about  nineteen  square  miles  ! 


BERMUDA. 


5 


The  islands  lie  so  near  each  other,  the  main 
ones  being  connected  by  bridges  that  span  the 
narrow  fiords,  that  as  you  approach  them  you 
exclaim,  “ Where  are  the  multitudinous  islands  ? 
This  is  surely  continuous  land.”  Nature  seems 
to  have  taken  great  care  of  this  precious  bit  of 
her  handiwork.  So  perfectly  is  it  guarded  by 
its  outlying  coral  reefs  that  there  is  but  a single 
channel  by  which  large  vessels  can  enter  the 
harbor.  Fifteen  miles  from  shore,  at  the  ex- 
treme northern  limit  of  the  reefs,  rises  a pic- 
turesque group  called  the  North  Rocks,  — the 
highest  pinnacles  of  a submerged  Bermuda,  — 
which  may  itself  have  been  but  a mountain 
peak  of  the  fabled  continent  Atlantis.  But 
though,  according  to  the  chronicle,  these  rocks 
may  be  seen  by  the  approaching  traveler,  they 
seldom  are,  and  the  first  land  sighted  by  the 
New  York  steamer  is  the  northeast  coast  of 
St.  George’s  Island.  By  night,  the  fixed  white 
light  on  St.  David’s  Head  alone  gives  evidence 
that  land  is  near.  The  tortuous,  well-buoyed 
channel  can  be  entered  only  by  daylight. 

Out  comes  the  Negro  pilot,  and  scrambles 
up  on  deck.  We  round  St.  George’s,  and  fol- 
low the  northern  coast  line  at  a respectful 
distance  till  we  reach  Point  Ireland  and  her 
majesty’s  dockyard,  and  come  to  anchor  in 
Grassy  Bay.  It  is  barely  noon,  but  we  find  to 


6 


BERMUDA . 


our  chagrin  that  the  tide  is  out,  and  we  must 
lie  here  till  night  and  wait  for  it.  Presently 
appears  the  little  steam-tug,  the  Moondyne  (or 
Mo-on-dy-ne,  — meaning  the  messenger,  — if 
you  choose  to  appear  wiser  than  other  folks), 
which  sooner  or  later  becomes  so  pleasantly 
known  to  all  Bermudian  visitors,  and  demands 
the  mail.  It  is  but  a five-mile  run  into  Hamil- 
ton harbor,  and  most  of  the  passengers  avail 
themselves  of  this  opportunity  to  leave  the 
steamer;  but  the  Moondyne,  crowded  from 
stem  to  stern,  looks  half  under  water,  and  the 
descent  by  the  swaying  stairs  is  not  enticing  to 
heads  and  feet  that  are  still  unsteady. 

We  will  take  the  chances,  though  hotels  be 
full,  and  the  rule,  we  are  told,  “First  come,  first 
served.” 

With  our  American  ideas  of  the  expediency 
of  utilizing  the  telegraph  wires  on  every  possi- 
ble occasion,  adequate  or  inadequate,  it  seemed 
absurd,  a going  back  into  the  dark  ages,  to  be 
told  in  New  York  that  we  could  not  telegraph 
for  rooms.  But  there  is  no  cable  to  Bermuda; 
and  the  steamer  sails  only  on  alternate  Thurs- 
days, excepting  in  April,  May,  and  June.  In 
those  three  months  there  is  a weekly  service. 
So  unless  you  can  make  your  plans  some  weeks 
ahead  of  your  actual  journey,  you  must  trust  to 
luck  in  the  matter  of  quarters. 


BERMUDA. 


7 


But  would  we  have  dinner?  We  had  forgot- 
ten there  was  such  a word.  Was  it  true,  then, 
that  human  beings  were  dependent  upon  food, 
or  at  least  upon  anything  beyond  a sip  of  or- 
ange-juice and  a crumb  of  biscuit  ? And  could 
we  really  go  downstairs,  and  sit  at  a table  like 
Christians  ? 

We  went,  — a dozen  or  two  of  us  who  had 
been  raised  from  the  dead  that  morning  ; and 
by  the  slow  persuasion  erf  iced  claret  and  sea- 
biscuit  were  gradually  brought  round  to  the 
conviction  that  chicken  broth  was  a good  thing, 
and  roast  beef  was  not  to  be  despised. 

It  is  dark  when  we  reach  the  dock  at  Ham- 
ilton,— a dark,  rainy,  moonless  night.  How 
long  it  takes  to  lay  the  planks  (after  a most 
primitive  fashion),  and  make  ready  for  our  dis- 
embarkation ! Nemo  hurries  on  shore  to  look 
for  quarters.  No  rooms  at  the  hotels  for  love 
or  money,  but  pleasant  lodgings  “ out,”  with 
board  at  the  Hamilton.  A carriage  waits,  and 
a not  long  drive  through  the  soft,  damp,  odor- 
ous darkness  brings  us  to  our  temporary  home. 

By  a flight  of  winding  stairs  outside  the 
house,  we  reach  a covered  balcony,  over  which 
a tropical  vine  wanders  at  will.  Double  glass 
doors  lead  into  a large,  square  chamber,  with 
walls  of  snow  and  floor  of  cedar,  out  of  which 
open  two  good-sized  bedrooms.  The  furniture 


8 


BERMUDA. 


is  quaint  and  old-fashioned,  and  there  are  brass 
bedsteads  with  lace  draperies  wonderful  to  be- 
hold. On  a little  odd  table  between  the  two 
windows  opposite  the  door  is  a great  vase, 
overflowing  with  roses,  lilies  white  and  red,  the 
scarlet-flowering  heath,  and  fragrant  branches 
of  rose-geranium. 

“ Another  proof  that  ‘ patient  waiting  is  no 
loss,’  ” I said. 

We  learned  afterwards  that  many  of  our  less 
fortunate  shipmates  went  wandering  along  the 
coast  for  miles  that  day,  in  a long  search  for 
what  we  found  so  easily.  There  is  apt  to  be  a 
rush  when  the  steamer  comes  in  on  Sunday, 
and  some  inconvenience  until  she  goes  out 
on  Thursday,  — taking  with  her  a crowd  who 
leave  vacant  rooms  behind  them.  Doubtless 
this  will  all  be  remedied  after  a little,  as  the 
course  of  travel  sets  more  strongly  and  steadily 
towards  Bermuda.  That  supply  follows  de- 
mand is  a sure  rule  of  political  economy. 

We  crept  into  blessed  beds  that  would  not 
roll,  with  a queer  but  delightful  sense  of  isola- 
tion akin  to  that  one  feels  at  night  on  the  high- 
est peak  of  some  lonely  mountain.  Once  on 
the  top  of  Killington,  when  the  great  peak 
seemed  to  rock  and  sway  as  the  strong  winds 
roared  around  the  rocky  summit,  and  the 
gnarled  and  weather-beaten  fir-trees  groaned 


BERMUDA. 


9 


and  moaned  all  night  long,  I had  something  of 
the  same  sensation,  — as  if  I were  alone  upon 
some  point  in  space  from  which  I should  fall 
if  I stirred.  I had  not  seen  Hamilton  ; had 
had  no  glimpse  of  the  town,  for  even  the  dock 
was  unlighted.  What  was  Bermuda  but  a speck, 
a dot  upon  the  map  ! Surely  the  wind  that  was 
stirring  the  cedars  would  blow  us  off  this  atom 
in  the  illimitable  waste  of  waters.  But  we  slept, 
nevertheless. 


II. 


Two  or  three  low,  sweet  bugle  notes,  that  I 
afterwards  discovered  to  be  the  morning  call 
of  the  baker’s  boy,  and  a burst  of  jubilant  bird- 
song awakened  me.  It  took  but  a moment  to 
throw  open  the  window.  What  a contrast  to 
icy  mountains  and  valleys  of  drifted  snow ! 
Before  me  were  large  pride-of-India  trees,  laden 
with  their  long,  pendulous  racemes  of  pale  lav- 
ender, each  separate  blossom  having  a drop 
of  maroon  at  its  heart.  Clumps  of  oleanders, 
just  blushing  into  bloom,  rose  to  the  right  and 
the  left.  Beneath  me  were  glowing  beds  of 
geraniums,  callas,  roses,  Easter  lilies,  and  the 
many-hued  coleus.  Scarlet  blossoms  burned 
against  the  dark  green  of  the  pomegranate 
leaves.  Here  rose  the  tall  shaft  of  a stately 
palm  ; there  the  spreading  fans  of  the  pal- 
metto or  the  slender  spires  of  the  swaying 
bamboo.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was 
one  stretch  of  unbroken  bloom  and  verdure. 
But  stop  a minute  ! Surely  there  are  patches 
of  snow  set  in  all  this  greenery ; snow-covered 
roofs  glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  and  daz- 


BERMUDA . 


II 


zling  the  eye  with  their  brilliancy.  It  took 
more  than  a glance  to  discover  that  the  snow 
was  but  the  white  coral  rock,  of  which  more 
anon. 

It  seemed  a cruel  waste  of  time  to  go  to 
breakfast,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  As  we 
passed  from  beneath  our  pride-of-Indias  to  the 
winding  Serpentine,  a very  pretty  girl,  neatly, 
even  daintily,  dressed,  and  carrying  a little 
basket  lined  with  scarlet,  tripped  up  to  us,  and 
with  a graceful  apology  for  detaining  us,  in 
words  as  well  chosen  as  those  of  any  lady, 
begged  the  privilege  of  doing  our  washing  ! 
The  pretty  face  was  dark,  — as  dark  as  that  of 
a bronze  Venus.  We  said  yes,  quite  shame- 
facedly, no  doubt,  and  went  our  way,  wonder- 
ing what  manner  of  land  this  might  be,  where 
melodious  bugle  notes  announce  the  advent  of 
the  baker,  and  your  washerwoman  has  the 
speech  and  carriage  of  a duchess. 

Truth  compels  me  to  say,  just  here,  that  the 
brown  beauty  did  not  prove  to  be  an  expert 
laundress,  more ’s  the  pity.  But  what  ought 
one  to  expect  of  a butterfly  ? It  is  not  a honey- 
bee ! If  her  collars  and  cuffs  were  not  of  the 
orthodox  stiffness,  and  if  “ doing  them  up  ” 
after  her  fashion  was  hardly  worth  seventy- 
five  cents  a dozen,  the  glimpses  she  gave  us 
of  her  pretty,  smiling  face,  and  her  soft  voice 


12 


BERMUDA. 


and  graceful  manners  as  she  flitted  in  and  out, 
were  worth  a great  deal  more  than  that.  So 
we  had  the  best  of  the  bargain,  after  all.  After 
one  week,  however,  we  entrusted  our  finery  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  an  older  woman,  who, 
if  she  had  no  beauty  to  boast  of,  gave  us 
good  work  and  entire  satisfaction. 

But  this  is  a digression.  I foresee,  already, 
that  digression  will  be  the  order  of  the  day  in 
telling  this  story  of  our  Bermudian  days, — 
those  days  that  were  so  purposeless,  in  one 
sense,  and  yet  so  full  of  the  idle  content  that 
does  not  plan,  but  simply  enjoys.  We  turned 
to  the  right  or  the  left,  according  to  the  whim 
of  the  moment,  and  all  roads  led  to  Rome. 

Out  to  the  winding  Serpentine,  then  past  the 
old  quarry,  up  a slight  ascent,  then  a short  cut 
through  a rough,  steep  lane,  where  two  laugh- 
ing little  girls,  one  white  and  one  black,  were 
always  playing,  a turn  to  the  right,  and  we 
were  at  the  long  flight  of  easy  steps,  with  many 
levels  between,  that  led  to  the  Hotel  Hamil- 
ton. 

This  is  a large,  commodious  building  with 
many  pillars  and  broad  verandas,  shining  in 
the  sun  like  a palace  of  white  marble.  It 
stands  upon  a hill,  in  the  midst  of  pretty  and 
well-kept  grounds,  overlooking  on  every  side, 
and  the  whole  year  round,  a summer  landscape, 


BERMUDA . 


13 


the  quaint  white-roofed  town,  and  the  blue  wa- 
ters of  the  shining  bay.  A winding  drive,  with 
flights  of  steps,  regular  and  otherwise,  for  pe- 
destrians, leads  down  the  somewhat  steep  de- 
scent to  the  street  below.  To  the  right,  far 
off  to  the  southwest,  the  light-house  towers 
aloft,  and  by  night  sends  forth  the  flash  of  its 
revolving  light  once  a minute. 

But  we  cannot  stand  here,  held  by  the  glow, 
the  sparkle,  the  radiant  sunshine,  and  the 
strange  charm  of  the  semi-tropical  foliage.  Let 
us  go  in  to  breakfast. 

The  long  dining-room  was  filled  with  groups 
of  pleasant  people,  having,  on  the  whole,  rather 
more  than  the  usual  esprit  de  corps.  Of  course 
there  were  the  “ all  sorts,”  that  in  Bermuda,  as 
elsewhere,  it  “ takes  to  make  a world,”  and  not 
all  were  equally  agreeable.  But  were  we  not 
all  adventurous  voyagers,  exploring  this  terra 
incognita  ? And  did  not  each  new  steamer- 
load of  passengers  present  unknown  possibili- 
ties ? The  old  inhabitants,  many  of  whom  had 
been  there  all  winter,  were  ready  to  extend 
friendly  words  of  greeting  and  courteous  hos- 
pitalities to  the  new  comers,  and  to  put  them 
in  the  way  of  enjoying  whatever  was  most  en- 
joyable. 

So  it  happened  that  a handful  of  loquottes 
were  laid  beside  my  plate  that  morning,  with 


14 


BERMUDA. 


the  remark  that  they  were  nearly  out  of  season, 
and  this  might  be  my  only  opportunity  to  taste 
them.  The  loquotte  is  somewhat  like  a yellow 
plum ; bitter  and  astringent  if  plucked  too  soon, 
but  juicy  and  most  delicious  when  fully  ripe. 

And  so  it  happened,  too,  that  we  were  told 
that  very  Easter  Monday  was  to  be  a great  day 
for  the  boys  of  Pembroke  grammar  school. 
There  were  to  be  athletic  sports  at  Tucker’s 
Field,  and  the  victors  were  to  receive  their 
prizes  from  the  fair  hands  of  no  less  a person- 
age than  the  Princess  Louise.  Such  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  Bermuda  in  gala-dress  was  not  to 
be  slighted,  even  if  every  bone  in  one’s  body 
did  ache,  and  every  nerve  and  muscle  quiver; 
to  say  nothing  of  seeing  the  princess.  Of 
course,  in  theory,  one  is  quite  above  any  such 
weakness.  But,  as  a matter  of  fact,  was  there 
ever  an  American  woman  who  did  not  want  to 
take  a peep  at  royalty,  or  its  scions,  if  she  had 
a fair  chance  ? 

So  to  the  Field  we  went,  starting  early,  and 
taking  a long  drive  to  the  Flatts  on  Harrington 
Sound  on  the  way,  in  order  to  call  at  the  quaint 
and  beautiful  home  of  the  American  consul, 
Mr.  Allen,  who  has  been  here  for  many  years. 
The  house  is  most  picturesquely  situated  just 
where  the  waters  of  the  sound  pour  into  the 
sea  through  a narrow  inlet,  spanned  by  a pretty 


BERMUDA. 


IS 

bridge.  Its  brick-paved  court,  with  arched  en- 
trance, from  which  winding  stairs  on  the  out- 
side of  the  house  lead  to  the  drawing-rooms 
above,  and  its  overhanging,  projecting  balco- 
nies, give  it  a singularly  foreign  aspect  that  is 
very  charming. 

Here  we  saw  our  first  cocoa-nut  palm,  its 
feathery  branches  making  a soft,  rustling  music 
as  the  wind  swept  through  them.  And  here,  too, 
in  the  basin  of  a fountain  fed  directly  from  the 
sea,  were  dozens  of  beautiful  angel  fish,  so  ex- 
quisite in  their  blue  and  gold,  and  with  some- 
thing so  human  in  their  mild,  innocent  faces, 
that  they  seemed  half  uncanny.  Here,  also, 
were  the  little  striped  “ sergeant  majors,”  or  pi- 
lot-fish. These  curious  wee  creatures  seem  to 
be  the  forerunners,  or  “ pilots,”  of  the  mighty 
sharks,  and,  it  is  said,  always  precede  them. 
Without  vouching  for  the  truth  of  this,  I may 
say  that  whenever  we  saw  sharks  in  these  wa- 
ters, as  we  often  did,  the  pilot-fish  invariably 
preceded  them. 

Tucker’s  Field  was  a gay  sight.  All  Ber- 
muda was  there,  — a throng  of  well-dressed, 
handsome  grown  folks  and  pretty  children. 
Full  one  half  were  colored  people,  and  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  some  of  the  finest  looking 
and  finest  mannered  of  the  crowd  were  among 
them.  One  of  the  most  noticeably  elegant  men 


1 6 


BERMUDA . 


on  the  grounds  was  a tall  and  stately  black, 
with  a beautiful  child  in  his  arms  and  his  pretty 
wife  by  his  side.  There  were  soldiers  in  gay 
coats,  streamers  and  banners  flying  in  the  soft 
yet  not  heated  air,  a close  greensward  under 
our  feet,  a wall  of  cedars  encircling  us,  the  blue 
sky  over  our  heads  and  glimpses  of  the  blue 
sea  in  the  distance.  Against  a background  of 
cedar  arose  a white  pavilion,  over  which  floated 
the  Bermudian  flag ; and  in  front  of  it  was  a 
raised  platform,  covered  with  scarlet  cloth,  sa- 
cred to  the  princess  and  her  suite.  Her  royal 
highness  had  not  arrived,  but  the  boys  were 
already  at  their  work,  running  hurdle  races, 
vaulting  and  leaping. 

Presently  there  was  a little  commotion,  a stir 
of  expectancy.  Down  sank  the  British  ensign, 
and  the  princess’s  own  standard,  gorgeous  in 
scarlet  and  gold,  rose  in  its  stead,  as  an  open 
carriage,  with  outriders,  drove  on  to  the  grounds. 
The  princess,  in  a pretty  and  simple  costume 
of  purple  silk,  with  a bonnet  to  match, — a little 
puffed  affair,  guiltless  of  flowers  or  feathers,  — 
bowed  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  her  strong, 
sweet,  womanly  face  lighting  up  as  she  re- 
ceived the  greetings  of  the  people.  In  Ber- 
muda the  Princess  Louise  won  all  hearts  by 
her  gracious  sweetness,  her  affability,  and  the 
cordial  kindliness  and  simplicity  with  which 
she  met  all  advances. 


BERMUDA. 


1 7 


But  to  go  back  to  the  boys.  They  raced  ; 
they  jumped  ; they  ran  “ three-legged  races  ; ” 
they  rode  obstinate  though  gayly  caparisoned 
donkeys,  amid  cheers  and  laughter ; they  vault- 
ed, the  pole  being  raised  higher  and  higher, 
until  the  princess  put  a stop  to  it,  lest  the 
brave  lads  should  break  their  necks  : and  then, 
one  by  one,  the  blushing  and  victorious  knights 
received  their  shining  silver  cups  from  the 
hands  of  her  royal  highness. 

It  has  been  said  that  courtesy  is  the  rule  in 
Bermuda.  Here  is  a proof  of  it.  At  one  time 
during  these  performances,  the  crowd  surged 
in  front  of  me,  so  that  I could  see  only  a 
wall  of  backs  and  shoulders.  A kindly-faced 
and  sweet-voiced  negro  woman,  perceiving  this, 
touched  my  shoulder,  saying,  — 

“Take  my  place,  lady.  You  cannot  see.” 

“ But,”  I answered,  “ if  I do,  you  will  see 
nothing.” 

“ Oh,  that  does  not  matter,”  she  said,  with  a 
bright  smile.  “ The  lady  is  a stranger,  but  I 
have  seen  the  princess  a good  many  times.” 
The  pretty  pageant  was  over,  and  our  first 
day  in  Bermuda  as  well. 

Our  first  day,  But  how  can  I tell  of  that 
evening,  when  we  lay  in  our  steamer  chairs,  on 
our  vine-wreathed  balcony,  with  the  soft  moon- 
light irradiating  the  white  roads  and  the  waving 
2 


i8 


BERMUDA. 


palms,  casting  long  shadows  everywhere,  and 
touching  all  things  with  mystical  loveliness  ? 

It  was  like  a dream  when  we  thought  of  the 
snow-clad  hills  we  had  left  six  days  before,  and 
under  the  shadow  of  which  our  best  beloveds 
were  no  doubt  at  that  very  moment  heaping 
the  coal  on  glowing  fires,  and  saying,  “ How 
cold  it  is  ! ” 

But  next  morning  our  good  landlady  said, 
with  a deprecating,  apologetic  smile,  “ I don’t 
think  you  should  have  sat  on  the  balcony  last 
night.  You  Americans  take  risks  we  Bermudi- 
ans never  think  of  taking.  We  think  the  night 
air  dangerous  in  winter.” 

“ Winter  ? ” Was  this  winter  ? But  we  did 
not  take  cold  ; and  we  ran  the  same  fearful 
risk  more  than  once  afterwards,  sitting  in  the 
moonlight  and  talking  — Nemo  and  I — of 
things  past,  present,  and  to  come. 


III. 


It  had  been  showery  for  several  days  ; which 
means  that  it  had  not  seemed  wise  to  under- 
take any  long  expeditions,  though  there  was 
really  no  difficulty  in  getting  about,  even  on 
foot.  If  it  rained  one  minute,  the  sun  shone 
the  next ; and  so  porous  is  the  limestone  of  the 
roads  that  in  five  minutes  after  a brisk  shower 
one  had  no  need  of  overshoes.  But  no  one 
dreamed  of  stirring  without  waterproof  and 
umbrella. 

“ I have  been  out  four  hours  this  morning,” 
said  Flutterbudget,  “ and  was  caught  in  eight 
showers.  But  the  sun  shone  most  of  the  time, 
after  all,  and  it  was  delightful.  What ’s  the 
use  of  staying  in  ? One  never  minds  the  rain 
here.7’ 

Which  was  only  a fair  statement.  But  we 
were  a little  lazy  after  the  rough  voyage,  and 
were  not  sorry  for  a good  excuse  to  devote  our- 
selves mainly  to  getting  rested,  and  to  writing 
letters  to  send  back  by  the  Oronoco. 

When  we  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  her  red 
smoke-stack  we  turned  from  the  dock,  conscious 


20 


BERMUDA. 


of  a new  sensation.  It  was  as  if  we  were  on 
another  planet.  Until  she  should  come  sailing 
and  steaming  back  again,  we  were  as  absolutely 
cut  off  from  any  communication  with  home  as 
if  we  were  in  the  moon.  More  so  ; for  we 
could  at  least  see  that,  — the  same  full,  round 
moon  that  was  rising  slowly  over  Killington. 

Perhaps  in  this  isolation,  this  fact  of  being 
absolutely  cut  off  from  one’s  old  life,  lies  one 
of  the  chief  causes  of  the  recuperative  power, 
the  restfulness,  of  a few  weeks  in  Bermuda. 
For  you  can’t  get  even  a cable  dispatch.  No 
matter  what  happens,  — if  the  bank  breaks,  or 
the  cashier  absconds,  if  the  house  burns  down, 
or  the  children  have  the  measles,  or  Tom  gets 
married,  or  your  favorite  candidate  is  defeated, 
or  you  yourself  are  nominated  for  the  presi- 
dency, you  can’t  know  it  for  two  weeks.  Of 
course  there  are  thoughts  of  sadder  contingen- 
cies, as  there  always  must  be  in  life. 

But  it  is  astonishing  how  soon  one  learns  to 
accept  the  inevitable,  and  as  a not  unmitigated 
evil.  In  some  cases  it  seemed  even  possible 
to  rejoice  at  it. 

“ I positively  draw  a breath  of  relief  every 
time  the  steamer  sails,”  said  one  whose  life 
had  been  spent  in  the  eager  stress  and  strain 
of  business,  and  whose  nerves  had  suffered 
therefrom.  “ It  is  such  a comfort  to  know  that 


BERMUDA. 


21 


I cannot  get  a letter,  or  a New  York  paper, 
for  a fortnight.” 

By  degrees  the  happy-go-lucky  spirit  of  the 
islands,  which  is  content  to  trust  to  luck  and 
let  the  world  wag  as  it  will,  took  possession 
of  the  wisest  of  us.  And  yet  I was  fain  to 
observe  that,  notwithstanding  all  protestations, 
the  five  wise  virgins  and  the  five  foolish  ones 
were  equally  eager  for  the  mail  when  once  the 
steamer  was  signaled  ! 

But  one  day  we  found  ourselves  in  what 
Emery  Ann  would  have  called  “ a regular 
quandary.’’  Surely  it  is  not  necessary  in  this 
presence  to  tell  who  she  was,  or  is,  — for  if  she 
be  not  one  of  the  few  immortals  she  is  pretty 
sure  to  outlive  this  generation.  I have  no 
doubt  that  when  she  and  Miss  Patience  Strong 
took  their  outing  together,  sharing  both  “ sights 
and  insights,”  they  found  themselves  more 
than  once  in  precisely  our  predicament. 

If  we  were  to  stay  in  Bermuda  two  months 
we  must  have  a home,  a place  where  we  could 
gather  our  belongings  about  us,  make  ourselves 
comfortable,  and  feel  that  we  were  living.  I 
was  like  a bird  without  a nest  unless  so  dom- 
iciled ; and  as  for  Nemo,  he  had  had  only 
an  apology  for  a home  since  he  first  went  to 
college,  and  to  have  one  would  be  a pleasant 
change. 


22 


BERMUDA. 


But  our  quarters  down  the  Serpentine  had 
been  assigned  us  only  temporarily,  with  the 
understanding  that  we  were  to  have  rooms  at 
the  hotel,  as  soon  as  there  were  vacancies. 
Now  the  Oronoco  was  on  her  rolling  way  back 
to  New  York,  with  her  hold  full  of  onions  and 
her  staterooms  and  cabins  more  than  full  of 
passengers  ; and  Hotel  Hamilton  was  natu- 
rally desirous  to  gather  her  scattered  children 
under  her  own  wing.  Yet  her  vacant  rooms 
happened  to  be  not  especially  desirable,  and 
for  two  bedrooms,  without  a parlor,  we  would 
have  to  pay  as  much  as  for  our  pleasant  suite, 
the  balcony  and  a little  store-room  included. 

Still  there  were  objections  to  staying  where 
we  were.  The  necessity  of  putting  one’s  self 
into  street  costume  at  an  early  hour  was  in 
itself  a trial  to  one  accustomed  to  the  ease 
of  morning  negligee  and  breakfast  caps ; and 
the  matutinal  repast  seemed  hardly  worth  the 
trouble  of  going  after  it. 

“ Plow  far  is  it  to  the  hotel,  any  way  ? ” I 
asked  of  Nemo,  as  we  were  considering  ways 
and  means,  with  a vague  hope  that  I misap- 
prehended the  distance;  or  that,  perhaps,  if  he 
said  it  was  but  a little  way  I could  stand  it. 

But  he  answered,  “ Well,  I should  say  it  was 
just  about  as  far  as  to  the  butternut-tree.” 

Now  to  the  butternut  - tree  was  a standard 


BERMUDA. 


23 


of  measurement  familiar  to  all  our  clan,  and 
“just  about  ” as  definite  as  a piece  of  chalk. 
I had  always  noticed  that  the  distance  de- 
pended wholly  upon  one’s  state  of  mind. 
“ Only  down  to  the  butternut-tree  ” was  but  a 
step,  a mere  bagatelle,  to  a band  of  rosy,  laugh- 
ing children,  who  flew  over  the  ground  like  so 
many  young  deer  in  the  crisp  October  morn- 
ings, eager  to  see  how  many  nuts  had  fallen 
during  the  night,  and  to  crack  them,  all  un- 
dried as  they  were,  on  a certain  broad  white 
stone  beneath  it.  Little  cared  the  troop  of 
roguish  elves  for  lips  and  fingers  butternut- 
brown.  But  there  were  circumstances,  I had 
found,  under  which  “ ’way  down  to  the  butter- 
nut-tree ” lengthened  inconceivably. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  hotel  was  at  least 
three  times  as  far  as  to  the  butternut-tree  ; and, 
moreover,  it  was  uphill.  But  what  had  I come 
to  Bermuda  for  but  to  be  out-of-doors,  to  stray 
about  in  the  soft  sunshine,  and  to  triumphantly 
disprove  the  family  tradition  that  I had  never 
learned  to  walk  ? Here  was  my  chance,  — if, 
only,  one  could  get  rid  of  the  troublesome 
breakfast  question. 

To  the  rescue  rushed  a kind  fairy,  who,  for 
a reasonable  compensation,  would  serve  me 
a simple  breakfast  of  bananas,  eggs,  toast,  and 
tea  in  my  room.  So  by  degrees  it  settled  it- 


24 


BERMUDA. 


self  that  we  were  to  remain  where  fate  had  cast 
us  that  first  rainy  night,  in  “ lodgings  out,” 
with  board  at  the  Hamilton. 

Let  me  say  just  here,  in  case  any  one  who 
chances  to  read  these  pages  should  have  any 
thought  of  following  our  example,  that  who- 
ever takes  any  lodging  I happened  to  see  will 
have  some  things  to  put  up  with.  Eermuda  is 
not  progressive  in  the  way  of  modern  improve- 
ments. Very  few  of  the  private  housekeepers 
who  are  willing  to  rent  their  rooms  to  tourists 
have  any  idea  of  many  things  that  we  of  the 
North  regard  not  only  as  conveniences,  but  as 
necessities.  You  will  find  no  bath-rooms  with 
hot  and  cold  water,  and  you  will  have  to  do 
without  other  things  that  at  home  you  think 
quite  indispensable  to  a well-ordered  establish- 
ment. Without  doubt,  most  Americans  would 
find  themselves  more  comfortable  at  some  one 
of  the  hotels,  — the  Hamilton  being  by  no 
means  the  only  one. 

But  we  wanted  plenty  of  room,  quiet,  and 
rest.  Therefore  we  made  the  choice  we  did, 
and  we  never  regretted  it.  To  be  sure,  the 
chickens  disturbed  us  sometimes  of  a morn- 
ing, the  cocks  sounded  their  shrill  alarum  too 
early,  and  the  birds  in  the  swaying  boughs  of 
the  pride-of-India  trees  before  my  window  were 
occasionally  too  jubilant.  But  on  the  whole 


BERMUDA.  25 

order  reigned  in  Warsaw,  and  we  were  well 
content. 

A comfortable  rug  for  the  floor  of  our  sit- 
ting-room, and  the  loveliest  old  inlaid  table, 
with  two  leaves,  two  cedar -scented  drawers, 
claw  feet,  and  brass  toes,  giving  us  plenty  of 
room  for  our  books  and  writing  materials,  and 
sundry  small,  home-like  trifles,  were  gradually 
added  to  our  furnishings.  Gradually,  — for 
everything  is  done  gradually  in  Bermuda.  A 
transformation  that  would  be  brought  about  in 
half  a day  by  a brisk  Yankee  housekeeper  will 
require  a fortnight  here.  Why  should  one 
hurry  when  days  are  long  and  calm  and  sweet? 
Surely  there  is  time  enough.  The  world  is  not 
coming  to  an  end,  and  what  is  not  done  to-day 
can  it  not  be  done  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after  ? 

It  was  odd  to  be  reminded,  in  that  faraway 
island  of  the  sea,  of  Sam.  Lawson  and  Miss 
Lois’s  clock.  “ Some  things  can  be  druv,  Miss 
Lois,  and  then  agin  some  things  can’t,  and 
clocks-  is  that  kind.  They ’s  jest  got  to  be 
humored.”  But  we  were  so  reminded  more 
than  once,  before  our  rooms  were  settled.  The 
one  thing  that  puzzled  me  in  Bermuda,  from 
first  to  last,  was  to  know  who  did  the  work, 
and  when  it  was  done. 

Yet  while  nobody  is  in  a hurry,  and  nobody 
seems  to  have  anything  to  do,  every  one  is  well 
clad,  and  looks  happy  and  contented. 


IV. 


I wanted  a waste-basket,  a sponge,  and  di- 
vers other  things. 

“ Go  to  the  Tower,' ” said  somebody.  “ They 
keep  everything  there,  from  a pin  to  a piano.” 

It  was  a clear  day  at  last ; not  a cloud  in  the 
whole  wide  sky,  and  the  air  was  like  wine. 
Just  to  breathe  it  and  to  feel  one’s  self  alive 
was  enough.  The  sun  was  hot,  or  it  seemed  so 
to  those  of  us  who  were  fresh  from  Greenland’s 
icy  mountains ; but  the  breeze  from  off  the  sea 
blew  in  deliciously,  and  was  as  sweet  as  if  it 
came  straight  from  the  shores  of  Araby  the 
Blest. 

Forth  we  fared  — we  meaning  the  two  of  us, 
Nemo  and  I — in  search  of  the  Tower.  It 
proved  to  be  a substantial  building  on  a con- 
spicuous corner,  surmounted  by  a round  tower, 
from  which  floated  the  British  ensign.  Inside, 
it  is  a regular  country  store,  barring  perhaps 
the  codfish  and  molasses.  Moreover,  it  is  a 
book-store,  and  the  headquarters  of  a circulat- 
ing library.  The  proprietor,  a naive,  courteous, 
simple-hearted  gentleman,  — a native  Bermu- 


BERMUDA. 


2 7 


dian,  — showed  us  everything  we  did  and  did 
not  want,  entertained  us  with  pretty  stories 
about  the  princess,  testifying  loyally  to  the 
grace  and  benignity  of  her  royal  highness,  and 
made  not  the  slightest  objection  to  relieving  us 
of  our  spare  cash,  provided  it  was  in  good  Eng- 
lish shillings  and  sovereigns. 

Having  made  our  purchases,  we  strolled  on 
down  the  hill  to  Front  Street,  where  are  nearly 
all  the  shops  and  warehouses,  the  bank,  — for 
there  is  but  one,  — and  most  of  the  offices  and 
business  of  the  town. 

It  is  a broad,  low  street,  if  one  may  use  such 
an  expression,  nearly  a mile  in  length,  and  bor- 
dered by  a row  of  pride-of-India  trees.  These, 
however,  are  not  in  full  leaf  just  now,  but  are 
laden  with  long  pendulous  blooms,  not  very 
unlike  our  lilac  in  general  appearance,  though 
the  racemes  are  very  much  less  compact,  and 
the  flower  stems  longer.  The  tree  is  deciduous, 
and  we  do  not  see  it  in  its  glory.  In  midsum- 
mer it  casts  a dense  shade,  and  the  Bermudi- 
ans have  a saying  that  one  need  never  be  hot 
who  owns  a pride-of-India  tree  ; that  it  gathers 
and  holds  the  coolness,  as  the  cedar-tree  holds 
the  heat. 

The  street  is  not  paved,  and  the  sidewalks 
do  not  make  a strong  impression  upon  the  way- 
farer. Pedestrians  walk  where  they  will,  here, 


28 


BERMUDA . 


there,  or  yonder.  On  one  side  are  the  wharves, 
the  docks,  the  three  great  iron  sheds  with 
their  rounded  roofs,  and  below  and  beyond  the 
shining  harbor,  alive  with  sea-craft  of  all  de- 
scriptions. White-winged  yachts  fly  hither  and 
thither,  fishermen  are  making  ready  their  swift, 
strong  sail-boats,  ferrymen  are  rowing  single 
passengers,  — or  a dozen,  as  the  case  may  be 
— across  to  the  lovely  Paget  shore,  the  Moon- 
dyne  is  getting  up  steam  for  a trip  through 
the  great  sound,  and  with  long  steady  strokes 
the  blue-jacketed  tars  of  the  admiral’s  ship,  the 
Northampton,  send  its  cutter  swiftly  over  the 
blue  waters. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street  are  the  shops, 
queer,  low,  dark,  and  looking  for  the  most  part 
singularly  alike.  All  have  the  open  piazza  in 
front,  two  or  three  yards  wide,  supported  as  to 
its  roof,  or  ceiling,  by  slender  columns.  From 
these  piazzas  flights  of  stairs  lead  to  the  dwell- 
ing-houses above  the  shops,  which  are  furnished 
with  jalousies,  or  strong  Venetian  blinds. 

“ Onions  are  up,”  to-day,  — which  cabalistic 
sentence  means  they  are  bringing  a good  price  ; 
and  from  Heyl’s  Corner,  near  which  is  the 
American  consulate,  the  scene  is  a gay  and  a 
busy  one,  and  the  air  is  filled  with  the  odor  of 
Bermuda  violets.  A rose  by  any  other  name 
may  smell  as  sweet,  but  our  olfactory  nerves 


BERMUDA. 


29 


fail  to  perceive  that  calling  an  onion  a violet 
makes  its  pungent  odor  any  more  delectable. 
Donkeys,  horses,  negroes  of  every  age,  size, 
and  shade,  carts,  crates,  sacks,  barrels,  and 
boxes  are  mingled  in  seemingly  inextricable 
confusion,  and  laughter  and  hilarity  abound. 
There  goes  a scarlet-coated  soldier,  and  past 
him  strides  a tall  figure  in  the  green  uniform  of 
the  Royal  Irish  Rifles.  Yonder  a dozen  marines 
are  disembarking.  Here  comes  a turbaned  ne- 
gress,  balancing  a basket  of  lemons  on  her 
head.  She  lowers  it  to  her  arm,  seemingly 
without  an  effort,  as  we  ask  her  a question, 
smiling  and  showing  teeth  as  white  as  milk  and 
even  as  rows  of  corn. 

The  Bermuda  lemon  looks  like  a large, 
coarse-skinned  orange,  being  round,  and  of  a 
deep  reddish-yellow  in  color.  It  seems,  indeed, 
to  be  a cross  between  the  orange  and  lemon. 
The  pulp-cells  are  easily  separated,  and  while 
a very  sour  fruit,  which  makes  a delicious  sher- 
bet, it  has  not  the  extreme  acidity  of  the  lemon 
of  commerce.  The  trees  grow  wild  and  in  pro- 
fusion, but  the  fruit  is  too  short-lived  for  expor- 
tation. We  bought  four  of  the  great  yellow 
globes  for  threepence. 

On  our  way  home  we  passed  the  scene  of 
Mark  Twain’s  great  disappointment,  and  paused 
for  a moment  to  try  to  realize  his  emotions. 


30 


BERMUDA . 


There  stood  the  great  India-rubber  tree,  lifting 
its  enormous  bole  three  or  four  feet  from  the 
ground,  and  at  that  point  dividing  into  five  limbs, 
each  as  large  as  an  ordinary  tree.  It  is  in  pri- 
vate grounds,  but  as  we  stood  looking  meekly 
over  the  iron  fence  we  were  seen,  and  courte- 
ously, invited  to  walk  in  for  a nearer  view.  The 
gardener  made  a slight  incision  in  the  bark  to 
show  us  the  flow  of  the  milk-like  sap,  and  then 
piloted  us  through  the  luxuriant  garden  and 
lawns,  where  many  of  our  carefully  tended  hot- 
house plants  grow  to  great  size,  and  orange, 
pepper,  and  sago  palm-trees  flourish.  We  were 
hardly  able  to  recognize  our  “ pigeon  berry,” 
grown  to  a stately  tree,  with  a round  head,  and 
graceful,  drooping  branches  covered  to  their 
very  tips  with  a profusion  of  yellow  berries. 

As  we  passed  down  one  of  the  avenues  the 
gardener  touched  a poor  little  stunted,  deformed 
specimen  with  his  stick. 

“ A countryman  of  yours,”  he  said  senten- 
tiously.  “ It  has  given  me  more  trouble  than 
everything  else  in  the  garden.” 

It  was  an  apple-tree. 

In  the  afternoon  Nemo  went  off  on  a long 
tramp  of  investigation,  and  I strayed  away 
alone,  up  a still,  secluded  path,  where  presently 
I came  to  a deep  ravine.  Down  its  steep  sides 
grew  a plant  that  seemed  new  to  me.  Yet  it 


BERMUDA. 


31 


had  a strangely  familiar  air,  and  a strong  de- 
sire seized  me  to  examine  its  bell-shaped  blos- 
soms more  closely.  But  it  was  out  of  my  reach. 

A colored  man  was  washing  a wagon  at  a 
little  distance,  and  an  appeal  to  him  speedily 
resulted  in  my  possession  of  the  coveted  treas- 
ures. It  was  the  “ life-plant, ” he  said,  and  it 
grew  everywhere.  The  leaf  is  much  like  that 
of  our  “ live-for-ever,”  and  it  may  be  a tropical 
variety  of  that  plant.  But  it  throws  up  a tall 
flower-stalk,  crowned  with  a profusion  of  pur- 
plish-crimson bells.  If  a leaf  is  pinned  to  the 
wall  it  will  at  once  proceed  to  grow,  throwing 
out  roots,  leaves,  and  even  branches.  I have 
never  yet  heard  of  one  that  presumed  to  bloom 
under  these  severe  conditions  ; but  leaves  that 
I brought  home  with  me  grew  and  flourished 
for  months,  impaled  by  a barbarous  pin. 

I was  asked  long  afterwards,  on  relating  this 
incident,  “Were  you  not  afraid,  in  that  wild 
place,  to  address  a perfect  stranger,  and  a black 
man  at  that  ? ” 

Perhaps  such  a thing  as  discourtesy  may  be 
known  on  the  islands.  I speak  only  from  my 
own  experience  and  observation.  Manners,  if 
not  hearts,  are  exceedingly  friendly.  Every- 
body, as  a rule,  salutes.  No  man,  be  he  white 
or  black,  passes  a lady  without  lifting  his  hat. 
Every  child  makes  its  grave  little  salutation. 


32 


BERMUDA. 


Negro  women  with  baskets  on  their  heads  give 
you  a word  or  smile,  as  they  go  by.  Little  boys 
and  girls  steal  shyly  up  with  gifts  of  flowers  or 
fruit.  If  you  ask  a question  it  is  courteously 
answered  ; if  you  beg  a favor  it  is  immediately 
granted.  If  you  look  wistfully  over  a garden 
fence,  you  are  invited  in,  and  you  depart  laden 
with  fragrant  spoils. 

To  have  any  fear  of  anything  or  anybody 
seems  as  absurd  as  it  is  impossible. 


V. 


Perhaps  there  is  poverty  in  Bermuda,  but 
squalor  and  absolute  want,  if  they  exist,  keep 
themselves  strangely  out  of  sight.  The  first 
thing,  perhaps,  that  strikes  the  visitor,  after  the 
beauty  of  the  water  and  the  perfection  of  the 
flowers,  is  the  appearance  of  ease  and  well-to-do 
comfort  that  pervades  the  islands.  There  is  no 
rubbish,  no  dirt,  no  dust,  no  mud.  Instead  of 
the  tumble-down  shanties  that  deform  and  de- 
file the  rest  of  the  world,  here  the  humblest 
citizen  not  only  dreams  of  marble  halls,  but 
actually  dwells  in  them,  — or  seems  to.  All 
the  houses  are  built  of  the  native  snow-white 
stone,  a coral  formation  that  underlies  every 
foot  of  soil.  When  first  quarried,  this  stone  is 
so  soft  that  it  can  be  cut  with  the.  knife.  But 
it  hardens  on  exposure  to  the  air,  and  so  dura- 
ble is  it  that  a house  once  buiided  is  good  for 
at  least  a hundred  years.  Every  man  seems  to 
be  the  owner  of  a “ quarry,”  so  called.  He 
who  wishes  to  build  him  a house  has  but  to 
scrape  off  a foot  or  two  of  the  red  surface  soil, 
and  lo  ! there  lies  his  building  material  ready  to 
3 


34 


BERMUDA. 


his  hand,  or  rather  to  his  saw.  No  blasting  is 
required,  no  slow,  laborious  drilling,  no  vast  ex- 
penditure of  time  and  money,  such  as  has  made 
so  many  Vermont  marble  quarries  the  mauso- 
leums of  dead  hopes  and  buried  treasure. 

But  if  money  does  not  go  into  the  opening 
of  these  Bermuda  quarries,  so  neither  does  it 
come  out  of  them  — to  any  great  extent;  which 
certainly  goes  far  to  equalize  matters. 

The  stone  is  sawed  by  hand  into  cubes,  per- 
haps two  feet  long,  one  foot  wide,  and  one  foot 
thick.  These  are  piled  like  bricks,  with  inter- 
stices between  for  the  circulation  of  the  air,  and 
left  to  dry.  The  vacant  space  made  by  the 
removal  of  the  rock  forms  the  cellar,  which  is 
thus  already  walled  and  floored,  and  the  builder 
has  only  to  go  on  and  put  up  his  house.  Thin, 
flat  slabs  of  the  same  stone,  placed  at  a slight 
slope,  form  the  roof,  and  this  is  whitewashed 
periodically,  so  that  the  seemingly  snow-cov- 
ered roofs  of  Bermuda  strike  the  eye  at  once, 
and  are  in  strong  contrast  to  the  deep  verdure 
in  which  they  are  set. 

That  this  coral  formation,  which  is  really  a 
species  of  limestone,  readily  lends  itself  to 
architectural  purposes  is  shown  by  the  really 
beautiful  interior  of  Trinity  Church,  or  the  Ca- 
thedral, as  it  is  otherwise  called.  This  edi- 
fice is  well  off  for  names,  for  it  is  also  styled  a 


BERMUDA . 


35 


“ Chapel  of  Ease,”  whatever  that  may  mean  ; I 
confess  I do  not  know.  But  it  is  a fine  build- 
ing, with  a very  deep  chancel,  on  either  side  of 
which  (outside  the  railing)  are  ranged  stately 
pews  for  the  accommodation  of  the  dignitaries, 
civic,  military,  and  ecclesiastic.  Several  hand- 
some memorial  windows  add  to  its  dignity  and 
give  pleasure  to  visitors. 

A certain  air  of  indescribable  quaintness  and 
simplicity  seemed  nevertheless  to  pervade  the 
place,  and  touched  me  not  a little.  In  the  ves- 
tibule hung  a tablet  with  a pathetic  inscription. 
I wish  I could  give  it  verbatim,  but  I can  only 
make  an  approach  to  it,  — 

“ Oh,  thou  who  enterest  this  holy  place,  de- 
part not  till  thou  shalt  have  offered  up  a prayer, 
not  only  for  thyself  and  thy  dear  ones,  but  for 
all  those  who  worship  here.” 

(I  leave  the  above  paragraph,  unaltered  — 
as  a flower  dropped  by  a stranger  above  the 
ashes  of  Trinity.  But  on  the  ioth  of  Febru- 
ary, 1884,  the  beautiful  church  was  destroyed 
by  fire.  It  is  a loss  to  the  small  community 
that  can  scarcely  be  measured.) 

The  stately  villas  of  Mount  Clare  and  Wood- 
lands and  the  fine  new  house  of  General  Hast- 
ings at  Fairyland  also  display  the  capabilities 
of  this  stone,  as  well  as  the  handsome  and 
massive  gateways,  with  their  arches  and  col- 


BERMUDA. 


3<5 

umns,  that  one  meets  at  every  turn.  These, 
with  the  well-kept  grounds,  give  an  impression 
of  affluence  and  elegance  that  is,  perhaps, 
sometimes  misleading.  For  we  are  told  that 
there  are  not  many  large  incomes  in  Bermuda, 
and  that  the  style  of  living  in  these  beautiful 
and  picturesque  homes  is  very  simple  and  un- 
ostentatious. 

It  is  the  very  afternoon  for  a walk,  the  air 
being  cool  and  bracing,  though  the  sun  is  hot. 
It  is  the  3d  of  April,  and  the  mercury  at  eight 
a.  M.  stood  at  62°  in  the  shade.  “ Too  cold  to 
work  out-of-doors,”  explained  a laborer  whom 
our  landlord  had  engaged  to  work  in  his  gar- 
den ; and  forthwith  he  gathered  up  his  tools 
and  departed.  Think  of  that,  ye  Yankee  farm- 
ers, who  chop  wood  and  “ cut  fodder  ” with 
the  thermometer  at  zero ! 

Shall  we  go  to  the  North  Shore,  taking  Pem- 
broke church  by  the  way  ? You  can  see  its 
square  tower  of  massive  stone  rising  above  the 
trees  yonder.  The  long  white  roof  with  the 
two  towers,  nearly  opposite,  just  beyond  that 
stately  royal  palm,  belongs  to  Woodlands,  one 
of  the  finest  places  here.  Here  the  hard, 
smooth  road  leads  us  on  between  long  avenues 
of  cedar-trees,  and  there  between  walls  of  coral 
rock  thirty  feet  high.  We  pause  to  rest  on  a 
low  stone  wall,  where  the  oleander  hedges, 


BERMUDA . 


37 


just  bursting  into  bloom,  pink  and  white  and 
vivid  crimson,  reach  far  above  our  heads  and 
fill  the  air  with  fragrance.  Deadly  sweet  ? 
Poisonous  ? May  be  so,  like  many  other 
charming  things.  But  we  ’ll  risk  it,  with  this 
strong  sea-breeze  blowing. 

We  meet  funny,  sturdy  little  donkeys  draw- 
ing loads  preposterously  large  ; carts  laden 
with  crates  of  onions  for  the  outgoing  steamer ; 
negro  women  bearing  baskets  and  bundles  on 
their  turbaned  heads,  — tall,  erect,  stately,  of- 
tentimes with  strong,  clearly  cut  features  al- 
most statuesque  in  their  repose  ; children,  white 
and  black,  just  out  of  school,  with  their  books 
and  satchels. 

For  a wonder,  the  square-towered  Pembroke 
church  is  closed.  But  the  gate  is  open,  and 
we  turn  into  the  quiet  churchyard,  where  so 
many  generations  lie  buried.  To  unaccustomed 
eyes  the  scene  is  a strange  one,  and  the  effect 
is  most  singular.  The  surface  of  the  ground 
is  almost  hidden  by  gray,  coffin-shaped  tombs, 
like  huge  sarcophagi,  solid  and  heavy  as  the 
eternal  rocks  of  the  island.  As  I understand 
it,  the  bodies  are  deposited,  tier  upon  tier  in 
many  cases,  in  excavations,  or 'tombs,  cut  in 
the  underlying  rock ; and  these  strange  struc- 
tures are  raised  over  them.  But  the  impres- 
sion one  gets  is  that  of  a multitude  of  great 


BERMUDA. 


38 

stone  coffins  resting  on  the  ground.  Very  few 
of  them  bear  any  inscription.  For  the  most 
part,  they  are  simply  numbered,  and  the  record 
of  names  and  dates  is  kept  in  a parish  book. 

This  custom  — to  which  of  course  there  are 
exceptions,  as  in  the  case  of  Bishop  Field,  who 
lies  under  a slab  of  Peterhead  granite,  suit- 
ably inscribed  — has  its  disadvantages.  For 
instance  : I was  told  that  on  the  death  of  the 
sexton,  or  clerk,  who  had  charge  of  one  of 
these  books  of  record,  his  wife  claimed  the 
book  as  her  own  private  prpperty,  and  de- 
manded the  sum  of  twenty  pounds  as  indem- 
nity for  giving  it  up.  The  parish  refused  to 
recognize  her  claim,  and  the  woman  in  a fit  of 
passionate  rage  destroyed  the  precious  volume. 

This  may  not  be  true.  I do  not  vouch  for 
it.  But  if  true,  it  must  have  been  painful  and 
tragic,  as  well  as  inconvenient. 

But  love  is  the  same  everywhere,  and  cares 
for  its  dead  all  the  same. 

Palms  rustle  softly.  Pride-of-India  trees, 
oleanders,  and  pomegranates  wave  their  boughs 
and  scatter  their  blossoms.  Lilies  and  callas 
and  roses  in  rich  profusion  make  the  place 
lovely  beyond  description,  while  wreaths  and 
crosses  lie  upon  tombs  that  are  gray  with  age. 
At  the  head  of  one  grave  — that  of  Governor 
Laffan,  who  died  last  year — is  a great  tub 


BERMUDA . 39 

of  English  violets.  At  its  foot  a sago-palm 
stretches  its  broad  arms  as  if  in  benediction. 

We  go  past  the  government  house,  Mount 
Langton,  catching  a glimpse  of  the  avenue, 
where  the  bourganvilier , a tropical  vine,  covers 
a wall  thirty-five  feet  high  with  a solid  mass 
of  crimson  flowers.  But  special  permission  to 
enter  must  be  had ; so  we  can  only  take  a sur- 
reptitious glance  to-day,  and  are  soon  at  the 
North  Shore,  looking  straight  out  to  sea. 

The  nearest  point  of  land  is  Cape  Hatteras, 
six  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away.  The  strong  * 
ocean  winds,  free  from  all  taint  of  earthly  soil 
or  sin,  sweep  over  us  with  strength  and  heal- 
ing in  every  breath.  And  the  coloring  ! Look  ! 
Far  off  on  the  horizon,  the  sky,  azure  over- 
head, softens  to  a pale  rose-color.  The  line 
that  meets  it  is  a deep  indigo  blue,  — a blue  so 
intense  that  we  can  hardly  believe  it  is  the  sea. 
Thence,  through  infinite  gradations,  the  color 
faints  and  fades,  from  indigo  to  dark  sapphire, 
from  sapphire  to  lapis-lazuli,  from  lapis-lazuli 
to  the  palest  shade  of  the  forget-me-not.  It 
changes,  even  as  we  gaze,  to  deepest  emerald, 
which  in  turn  fades  to  a tender  apple-green, 
touched  here  and  there  with  rose.  It  dies 
away  in  saffron  and  pale  amber,  where  it  kisses 
the  shore,  with  long  reaches  of  purple  where 
the  coral  reefs  lie  hidden. 


40 


BERMUDA. 


But  as  we  scramble  down  upon  the  rocky 
shore,  how  the  huge  breakers  foam  and  fret ! 
They  toss  their  proud  heads,  and  dash  them- 
selves against  the  frowning  cliffs  with  the  noise 
of  booming  thunder.  We  can  scarcely  hear  our 
own  voices,  and  will  run  from  the  spray  and 
the  tumult  to  a quieter  spot  farther  on.  Here 
we  find  some  oddly  shaped  shells,  and  that 
strange  creature  called  the  Portuguese  man-of- 
war.  It  looks  like  a pale  bluish  pearl,  shining 
in  the  sun  ; but  it  is  merely  an  elliptical  blad- 
der, and  floats  about,  balanced  by  long,  blue, 
hanging  tentacles.  Capture  it  with  cane  or 
parasol  if  you  can  ; but  beware  of  touching  it, 
for  it  exudes  a subtle  liquid  that  will  sting  you 
like  a nettle. 

“ Halloo  ! ” cried  Nemo,  exultingly.  “ I Ve 
caught  them,  — two  of  them  ! Come  down  and 
see  how  pretty  they  are,  — like  fairy  boats.” 

I was  sitting  under  the  lee  of  a high  wall, 
sharing,  with  serene  indifference,  the  wind’s 
sharp  tussle  with  my  veil  and  bonnet  strings. 
But  I managed  to  scramble  down  the  rocks 
again. 

“ 1 Boat  ? ’ ” said  I.  “ It  is  for  all  the  world 
like  a shoe,  — a little  glass  shoe.  It  is  Cinder- 
ella’s own  slipper ! But  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  them  ? ” 

“Take  them  home  and  see  if  there  is  any 


BERMUDA.  41 

way  to  preserve  the  things.  See  the  lovely 
iridescent  blue  tint,  like  a bit  of  the  sky  ! ” 

“ And  see  how  deftly  they  are  laced,  like 
other  shoes,”  I said.  “ Put  them  in  your  hand- 
kerchief, and  come  on,  Nemo.  They  ’ll  collapse 
in  a minute.” 

But  they  did  not.  One  of  them  dried  per- 
fectly, retaining  its  shape  and  much  of  its  ex- 
quisite coloring. 

We  wandered  home  across  a field  or  two 
and  through  a pleasant  grove,  from  which  a 
rough  path  leads  to  a high  hill  which  we  must 
climb  some  day,  coming  out  into  Cedar  Ave- 
nue again,  through  a slit  in  the  stone  wall  just 
opposite  Pembroke. 

After  dinner  Mr.  T.  introduced  us  to  a por- 
cupine fish,  — a curious  creature,  with  formi- 
dable-looking quills,  but  a most  innocent  and 
infantile  expression  of  countenance. 

“ When  I caught  it,”  said  Mr.  T.,  “ I had 
much  ado  to  keep  from  chucking  it  under  the 
chin,  it  looked  so  like  a baby.” 


VI. 


Having  been  to  the  North  Shore  yesterday, 
it  should  certainly  be  in  order  to-day  to  cross 
the  island  to  the  Sand  Hills,  on  the  South 
Shore,  — shortening  the  distance,  if  we  choose, 
by  taking  the  ferry  across  the  harbor  to  Paget. 
The  ferry  is  a row-boat,  and  Charon  will  take 
us  over  for  a penny  ha’penny  apiece,  with  all 
the  beauty  and  the  soft  sweet  airs  thrown  in. 
Cheap  enough,  in  all  conscience  ! For  here 
are  softly  undulating  shores,  green-clad  hills, 
white  cottages,  — each  a pearl  in  setting  of  em- 
erald, — the  busy  dock  with  its  quaintly  foreign 
aspect,  the  white-winged  yachts  flying  hither 
and  thither,  the  blue  sky  overhead,  the  bluer 
sea  below.  Is  it  not  worth  the  money?  Yon- 
der lies  a Norwegian  ship,  with  her  sailors 
climbing  the  shrouds  like  so  many  monkeys. 
Round  the  nearest  point  comes  a boat  from 
H.  M.  ship  Tenedos.  The  Tenedos  is  lying  at 
Grassy  Bay,  making  herself  fine  to  receive  the 
princess,  and  her  jolly  tars  are  in  high  spirits. 
When  her  royal  highness  sails,  next  week,  what 
with  the  flying  banners  and  the  gayly  dressed 


BERMUDA . 


43 


crowd,  the  blue  and  white  canopy  with  its  flow- 
er-wreathed pillars,  the  broad  scarlet-covered 
steps  leading  down  to  the  water,  the  admiral’s 
cutter  with  its  blue-jacketed  tars,  the  gold-laced 
admiral  himself  with  his  sword  and  his  plumed 
hat  and  all  the  rest  of  the  fuss  and  feathers,  it 
will  be  for  all  the  world  like  a scene  from  Pina- 
fore. 

But  this  morning  Jack  is  bent  on  getting  rid 
of  his  money.  He  will  manage  to  leave  half  a 
year’s  wages  behind  him  in  those  queer,  dark, 
uninviting  little  shops  on  Front  Street.  For 
there  are  more  enticements  hidden  away  in 
most  incongruous  nooks  and  corners  than  one 
would  imagine.  You  step  into  a grocery,  for 
instance,  and  find  a fine  display  of  amber  jew- 
elry. If  you  are  in  want  of  some  choice  co- 
logne, do  not  fail  to  ask  for  it  at  the  nearest 
shoe-shop.  It  is  as  likely  to  be  there  as  in 
more  legitimate  quarters.  The  rule  is,  If  you 
want  a thing,  hunt  till  you  find  it.  It  is  pretty 
sure  to  be  somewhere. 

A pleasant  walk  from  the  ferry  brings  us  to 
the  Sand  Hills,  over  which  we  tramp,  only  paus- 
ing to  admire  the  exquisite  oleander  blooms, 
the  largest  we  have  yet  seen.  We  clamber 
down  the  rocks,  and  reach  the  long,  smooth 
white  beach,  as  hard  and  level  as  a floor. 
There  is  a fresh  breeze,  and  the  surf  comes 


44 


BERMUDA . 


rolling  in,  driving  the  baby  crabs  far  up  the 
beach,  and  leaving  them  stranded.  We  laugh 
at  their  queer  antics  for  a minute,  and  then 
leave  them  to  chase  the  sea-bottles  that  are  roll- 
ing over  the  sand.  Can  they  really  be  alive, 
these  little  globes  of  iridescent  glass  filled  with 
sea-water  ? 

But  we  turn,  erelong,  from  all  the  strange 
creatures  of  the  sea  to  the  sea  itself,  lured  by 
its  own  resistless  spell.  There  is  not  a being 
in  sight,  save  one  lone  darkey  gathering  mus- 
sels in  the  distance.  There  is  not  a sign  of 
human  habitation ; only  the  long  stretch  of 
sandy  beach,  the  rocky  background,  and  the 
wide  ocean,  vast,  lonely,  illimitable.  We  write 
dear  names  on  the  sand,  and  with  half  a smile 
and  a whole  sigh  watch  the  tide  as  it  blots 
them  out.  What  do  we  care  that  myriads  be- 
fore us  have  played  at  the  same  childish  game  ? 
Higher  and  still  higher  up  we  write  them,  but 
the  result  is  always  the  same.  The  cruel, 
crawling,  hungry  sea  stretches  its  hand  over 
them,  and  they  are  gone. 

Nemo  wanders  off,  after  a while,  to  interview 
the  darkey,  and  inquire  into  the  details  of  the 
traffic  in  mussels.  The  wind  is  blowing  briskly ; 
the  tide  is  rolling  in  from  far  beyond  the  reefs 
over  which  it  foams  and  frets.  I sit  on  one 
rock,  under  the  shelter  of  another,  and  fancy 


BERMUDA.  45 

flies  fast  and  far  into  “ the  dark  backward  and 
abysm  of  time.” 

For  here  on  this  very  South  Shore,  tradition 
saith,  did  Ariel  leave  the  king’s  son,  Ferdi- 
nand, — 

“ Cooling  of  the  air  with  sighs 
In  an  odd  angle  of  the  isle,  and  sitting, 

His  arms  in  this  sad  knot.” 

Here,  too,  did  the  tricksy  sprite  assure  his 
master  that 

“ Safely  in  harbor 

Is  the  king’s  ship ; in  the  deep  nook,  where  once 

Thou  call’dst  me  up  at  midnight  to  fetch  dew 

From  the  still-vexed  Bermoothes,  there  she ’s  hid.” 

How  appropriate  is  this  epithet  one  can 
scarcely  understand  until  he  has  seen  the  chaf- 
ing of  the  sea  over  the  rugged  rocks  and  reefs 
that  in  Shakespeare’s  time  were  thought  to 
be  the  abode  of  monsters  and  devils.  Where 
was  Prospero’s  cell  ? Where  slept  the  fair 
Miranda  ? Upon  what  bank  sat  Ferdinand 
when  Ariel  sang,  “ Come  unto  these  yellow 
sands  ” ? 

“ Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies  ; 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made  ; 

Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes  : 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade 
But  doth  suffer  a sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange.” 


BERMUDA . 


4 6 

Hark  ! Who  knows  but  the  sweet,  low  mu- 
sic of  the  waves  owes  half  its  magic  to  the 
spell  of  Ariel's  remembered  song  ? Where 
dwelt  the  “ foul  witch,  Sycorax  " ? and  in  which 
of  these  caverns,  the  very  darkest  and  wildest 
of  them  all,  was  the  lair  of  Caliban  ? 

With  some  handsome  crab-shells,  and  two  or 
three  “ sea-bottles,"  — curious  little  bladders 
filled  with  sea-water,  looking  precisely  like  glass 
marbles  of  palest  amber, — we  climbed  the 
rocks  again,  and  wandered  back  to  the  thicket 
of  oleanders.  The  blooms  were  of  immense 
size,  and  of  every  gradation  of  color,  ranging 
from  purest  white,  through  all  the  intermediate 
shades  of  pink,  to  deepest  crimson. 

“ From  this  day  forth,"  I said,  “ deliver  me 
from  a stunted  oleander,  growing  in  a ten-inch 
pot,  and  tormented  by  scaly-bugs." 

It  is  an  unwritten  law  in  Bermuda  that  one 
should  always  go  by  one  road  and  return  by 
another.  Rather  than  break  it  we  strolled  on, 
following  a wall  that  led  — somewhere.  Pretty 
soon  a youngster  of  ten  pattered  up  behind  us, 
and  gravely  answered  our  salute,  looking  at  us 
askance  from  under  his  broad-brimmed  pal- 
metto hat.  Under  the  beguiling  influence  of 
a penny,  however,  he  soon  grew  communica- 
tive ; and  presently  confided  to  us  the  story  of 
his  woes.  He  had  not  had  so  much  as  a 


BERMUDA. 


47 


glimpse  of  the  princess ! and  she  was  going 
away  in  a few  days ! All  the  rest  of  the 
family  had  seen  her  ; but  even  on  the  day  of 
her  reception  at  St.  George’s  he  had  to  stay 
at  home  to  mind  the  house.  Poor  little  man  ! 
and  there  might  never  be  a princess  in  Ber- 
muda again. 

“ But,”  he  added,  as  if  to  console  himself, 
“ they  say  she  dresses  very  plain  ! ” 

" Is  it  possible  ? ” said  I.  “ I thought  a 
princess  had  rings  on  her  fingers  and  bells  on 
her  toes,  and  that,  if  she  were  a very  great 
princess  indeed,  she  wore  some  kind  of  a 
crown.  Is  n’t  that  so  ? ” 

“ Oh,  no ! ” he  said,  half  under  his  breath. 
“ Why,  they  say  she  goes  shopping  in  calico  ! ” 
To  appreciate  this  one  should  have  heard 
the  emphasis  on  the  last  word.  But  having 
thus  delivered  himself,  he  brightened  up,  and 
began  pegging  stones  at  a bluebird. 

A familiar  plant  grew  by  the  wall,  but  by 
one  of  memory’s  perverse  tricks  I could  not 
recall  the  name  of  it. 

“ What  is  that,  my  boy  ? ” I asked,  touching 
it  with  my  parasol.  “ What  do  you  call  it  ? ” 

“ Flannel  plant,”  said  he. 

“ What  ? ” I repeated. 

“ Flannel  plant.” 

“ Is  that  what  your  mother  calls  it  ? ” 


BERMUDA. 


48 

“ Yes ’m.” 

“ Behold  how  language  changes  and  de- 
generates,said  Nemo,  picking  a bunch  of 
aromatic  fennel.  “ When  this  boy’s  great- 
grandmother came  over  from  Old  England,  and 
brought  a root  of  her  favorite  herb  with  her, 
doubtless  she  called  it  fennel.  Fennel,  fannel, 
flannel ; there  you  have  it.” 

The  urchin  listened  with  wide  eyes.  Then 
as  we  reached  the  parting  of  the  ways,  he 
dashed  round  a corner  and  disappeared. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards,  as  we  passed  a little 
shop  at  the  cross-roads,  we  saw  him  standing 
in  the  doorway  eating  a stick  of  striped  candy. 
That  penny  had  burned  a hole  in  his  pocket. 
Boy  nature  is  pretty  much  the  same  every- 
where. 

We  came  out  near  the  pretty  Paget  church, 
rested  for  a while  under  a palm  - tree,  and 
then  strolled  on  down  the  shaded  road  to  the 
ferry,  which  we  recrossed  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner. 

Our  balcony  looked  very  cool  and  inviting. 
Within,  the  great,  white,  shadow}7  room  was 
fragrant  with  masses  of  roses  and  lilies.  You 
can’t  buy  flowers  in  Bermuda ; but  its  wdiole 
world  is  ready  to  give  them  to  you,  if  you  are 
known  to  love  them,  without  money  and  with- 
out price. 


BERMUDA . 


49 


" I believe  I am  tired,”  I said,  sinking  into 
an  easy-chair.  “ Nemo,  give  me  one  of  those 
shell-roses  to  comfort  myself  with.” 

“ Lady  Mither,  do  you  know  you  have  walked 
more  than  three  miles  ? What  would  they  say 
at  home  ? ” 


4 


VII. 


Did  I say  it  would  be  like  a scene  from  Pina- 
fore ? It  was  ! They  were  all  there,  Ralph 
Rackstraw,  Sir  Something  Somebody,  K.  C. 
B.,  the  able-bodied  seamen  from  the  Queen’s 
Navee,  and  the  whole  crowd,  uncles  and  broth- 
ers, as  well  as  the  sisters,  the  cousins,  and  the 
aunts.  One  had  but  to  close  one’s  eyes  to 
the  surroundings,  — but  to  shut  out  the  atmos- 
phere, — and  the  little  pavilion  became  the 
stage  at  which  we  have  all  looked  more  than 
once.  Only  the  footlights  were  missing. 

The  Oronoco  was  lying  at  her  dock,  very 
near  the  flight  of  stone  steps  from  which  her 
royal  highness  was  to  embark,  and  a large 
party  of  us  secured  good  places  on  her  upper 
deck,  which  overlooked  the  blue-canopied  pa- 
vilion. For  it  was  impossible  not  to  catch  a 
little  of  the  enthusiasm  that  thrilled  the  hearts 
of  the  loyal  Bermudians.  We  laughed  slyly  at 
ourselves,  and  good-naturedly  at  each  other; 
but  nevertheless  we  all  went  to  see  the  show. 

And  a pretty  show  it  was.  Not  grand,  nor 
imposing;  but  under  that  blue  sky,  with  the 


BERMUDA. 


SI 


clear  sunshine  irradiating  all  things  and  mak- 
ing the  sea,  that  was  bluer  even  than  the  sky, 
glow  and  sparkle  with  wonderful  intensity ; with 
flags  flying  from  every  housetop  and  window, 
and  fluttering  from  every  mast-head ; with  sail- 
boats gliding  hither  and  yon  like  so  many 
white-winged  birds ; with  the  red  coats  of  the 
soldiers  and  the  blue  jackets  of  the  sailors  mak- 
ing picturesque  bits  of  color  here  and  there; 
with  the  eager,  expectant  faces,  black  and  white  ; 
the  restless,  impatient  children,  the  flowers  and 
the  streamers,  it  was  a pretty  sight  and  well 
worth  seeing. 

From  our  perch  on  the  Oronoco  we  could 
look  down  into  the  flower-wreathed  pavilion 
which  had  been  erected  at  the  head  of  the 
broad  flight  of  stairs  leading  down  from  the 
dock  to  the  water.  On  either  side  of  it  rose 
tiers  of  seats,  one  above  another,  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  insular  dignitaries.  These 
slowly  filled  even  to  the  topmost  row.  Car- 
riages dashed  hither  and  thither.  There  was 
a sound  of  distant  music,  and  down  the  street 
from  Prospect  filed  the  long  ranks  of  the  Royal 
Irish  Rifles,  in  dark  green  uniforms  picked 
out  with  white,  and  drew  up  in  line  across  the 
street.  Round  the  point  swept  the  admiral’s 
cutter,  rowed  by  eight  oarsmen,  and  drew  up 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


52 


BERMUDA. 


And  still  we  waited.  The  pavilion  itself  was 
empty,  save  for  one  old  man  with  a broom,  who 
persistently  swept  and  smoothed  the  scarlet 
cloth,  with  broad  border  of  blue,  that  covered 
every  inch  of  the  floor  and  steps.  Evidently 
there  would  be  no  shred  of  lint,  no  speck  of 
dust,  to  profane  the  unwonted  dignity  of  that 
carpet  while  he  was  to  the  fore  ! 

Finally  appeared  his  honor  the  mayor,  then 
his  excellency  Lieutenant-General  Gallway, 
governor  and  commander-in-chief ; and  shortly 
after,  the  admiral,  Sir  John  Edmund  Com- 
merell,  V.  C.,  K.  C.  B.,  in  full  uniform,  with  his 
cocked  hat,  plumed  and  gold-laced,  and  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  his  cfflce. 

But  still  we  waited.  Her  royal  highness  was 
to  have  sailed  at  half  past  two,  and  it  was  now 
three. 

“ The  Princess  Louise  has  not  her  mother’s 
business-like  promptness,”  said  a gentleman 
near  us.  “ Nobody  ever  has  to  wait  for  the 
Queen.” 

At  length  a carriage  came  sweeping  round 
the  curve  of  the  bay.  All  eyes  turned  in  that 
direction,  and  the  green  uniforms  opposite  were 
on  the  alert.  It  was  not  the  princess,  but  it 
was  the  ladies  of  her  suite.  And  finally  she 
appeared,  the  observed  of  all  observers,  clad 
in  olive  browns  from  tip  to  toe.  There  was 


BERMUDA. 


53 


not  much  cheering.  The  crowd  was  a very  si- 
lent one.  It  seemed  to  a looker-on  that  hearts 
were  a little  too  full  for  noisy  demonstration. 
The  feeling  of  Bermuda  for  Louise  was  more 
than  simple  loyalty.  It  was  real  affection. 
The  island  had  taken  her  to  its  very  heart. 

But  now  the  end  had  come.  His  honor 
made  his  little  speech, — which  was  quite  inau- 
dible from  our  stand-point,  — a little  girl  pre- 
sented a big  bouquet  nearly  as  tall  as  herself, 
Governor  Gallway  paid  his  devoirs,  and  then 
the  princess  made  her  farewells,  shaking  hands 
with  every  one  who  approached  her,  high  or 
low,  black  or  white,  and  seeking  out  many  who 
did  not  venture  to  seek  her. 

The  admiral  was  just  about  handing  her  into 
the  boat,  when  she  saw  standing  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  with  disappointment  visible  in  her 
face,  an  elderly  lady  in  black  who  had  in  some 
way  been  overlooked  in  the  adieux.  Turning 
quickly,  she  ran  back  up  the  long  flight  like  a 
school-girl,  took  the  old  lady’s  hand  and  held  it 
while  saying  a few  words  that  will  surely  never 
be  forgotten,  then  ran  down  again,  and  stepped 
lightly  into  the  boat. 

Oars  flashed  in  the  sun,  the  cutter  flew  over 
the  shining  waves,  and  in  a few  moments  we 
saw  a lithe  brown  figure  ascending  the  ladder 
of  the  Supply,  which,  convoyed  by  the  whole 


BERMUDA. 


54 

fleet  of  yachts,  moved  slowly  down  the  harbor. 
The  Tenedos,  in  which  the  princess  was  to  sail, 
lay  in  waiting  at  Grassy  Bay.  There  was  much 
waving  of  handkerchiefs,  there  were  cries  of 
“ Good-by  ! good-by  ! ” and  “ God  bless  her  ! ” 
but  there  were  no  shouts  or  cheers.  Bermudian 
annals  will  long  make  mention  of  “ the  year  the 
princess  was  here.” 

The  air  was  full  of  stories  about  her,  and 
her  relations  to  the  people,  all  that  season. 
Some  were  pretty,  and  some  were  funny ; and 
many  of  them  were  repeated  and  garbled  by 
industrious  and  adventurous  reporters,  till  they 
bore  scarce  a trace  of  resemblance  to  the 
facts.  But  that  Louise  was  greatly  attracted 
to,  and  amused  by,  the  colored  people,  and 
that  she  delighted  to  enter  their  houses  and 
talk  to  them,  is  undoubtedly  true,  whether  she 
ironed  old  Mammy’s  shirts  or  not.  She  en- 
joyed to  the  full  the  rare  freedom  of  her  life 
in  the  island,  its  lack  of  conventional  re- 
straints, and  the  simplicity  and  warm-hearted- 
ness of  the  people.  She  went  among  them 
with  little  or  no  formality,  inviting  herself  to 
lunch  with  them  and  to  join,  at  times,  in  their 
festivities ; merging,  as  it  were,  the  princess  in 
the  lady.  She  drove  about  in  a little  basket 
phaeton,  and  went  “ shopping  in  calico/’  pro- 
viding for  her  small  menage  like  any  other 


BERMUDA. 


55 


housekeeper.  A laughable  story  is  told  of  a 
tradesman  of  whom  she  asked  the  price  of 
some  trifle. 

“ Our  price,  your  royal  highness,”  he  said, 

— “ our  price  is  three  shillings.  But  to  you  we 
shall  make  it  two-and-nine  ! ” 

“ Even  the  birds  call  me  4 Louise/  in  Ber- 
muda,” she  wrote  to  a friend. 

Which  only  proves  that  the  cardinal  gros- 
beak is  the  most  arrant  trifler  that  ever  made 
love  to  trusting  hearts.  I am  positive  that  he 
was  continually  calling  “ Julie  ! Julie  ! ” in  the 
very  sweetest  and  most  persuasive  accents  ; 
and  numberless  other  women  are  ready  to 
swear  that  their  names  were  the  sole  burden  of 
his  song.  What  shall  be  done  to  him  ? for  he 
is  the  veriest  rogue  and  madcap  that  ever 
flashed  like  a scarlet  flame  from  tree  to  tree. 
He  fairly  lights  up  the  landscape  with  his  bril- 
liant plumage,  while  his  constant  companions, 
the  bluebirds,  are  like  bits  of  the  sky  itself, 

— such  an  intense  and  exquisite  blue  as  is 
seldom  seen. 

Very  beautiful,  too,  are  the  dainty  little 
ground  doves,  — diminutive  creatures  scarcely 
larger  than  your  thumb,  clad  in  Quaker  gray, 
and  as  demure  as  their  garb.  They  are  seen 
everywhere,  in  pairs  and  in  flocks,  bowing  and 
cooing  and  picking  their  way  about  in  the  very 


BERMUDA. 


56 

daintiest  fashion.  I never  happened  to  see 
one  on  the  wing,  — though  of  course  they  fly, 
like  other  doves. 

There  are  many  other  birds,  casual  or  acci- 
dental visitors  from  far-off  shores,  and  migra- 
tor)’ in  their  habits.  But  these  are  at  home  on 
the  island,  and  so  overshadow  all  the  others 
that  one  scarcely  notices  them.  A few  other 
varieties  remain  through  the  year. 

St.  Patrick  must  some  time  have  visited  Ber- 
muda, for  snakes  are  unknown.  The  nearest 
approach  to  a reptile  is  the  turtle,  and  one 
or  two  varieties  of  lizards.  Spiders  are  numer- 
ous, and  occasionally  one  sees  a veteran  of  ex- 
ceedingly large  proportions,  — a regular  Dan- 
iel Lambert  of  a spider,  — who  will  peer  down 
at  you  from  over  your  door,  or  suddenly  ap- 
pear to  you  at  dead  of  night  silhouetted  on  the 
white  wall  of  your  chamber,  in  rather  startling 
fashion. 

But  though  not  exactly  agreeable  comrades, 
they  are  entirely  harmless,  and  one  soon  learns 
not  to  mind  their  antics.  We  were  in  an  old 
house,  too,  where  perhaps  they  throve  better 
than  in  newer  quarters. 

It  is  said  there  is  not  a poisonous  plant  or 
a venomous  insect  in  Bermuda,  unless  one 
may  call  mosquitoes  venomous.  Yet,  in  the 
case  of  plants,  especially,  it  is  hard  to  under- 


BERMUDA. 


57 


stand  how  or  why  this  should  be.  No  plants 
seem  to  be  indigenous  there,  but  all  were  con- 
veyed thither  by  natural  or  artificial  means. 
Why  this  conveyance  should  have  been  re- 
stricted to  such  as  were  not  harmful  it  is  not 
easy  to  see.  When  the  island  was  discovered 
it  had  but  one  variety  of  tree,  — the  cedar,  or 
juniper,  which  is  even  yet  more  numerous  than 
all  the  rest  combined. 

The  little  blue  Bermudiana,  a larger  growth 
of  our  familiar  “ blue-eyed  grass,”  stars  the 
ground  everywhere  ; the  trailing  crab  - grass 
clothes  it  in  perennial  green;  the  wild  sage- 
bush  meets  you  at  every  turn.  I was  quite 
in  love  with  a pretty  thistle,  with  sage-green 
leaves  and  a single  flower  of  pale-lemon  color, 
that  grows  by  the  waysides.  The  rose-gera- 
nium is  as  common  and  as  hardy  as  our  may- 
weed. And  oh,  wonder  of  wonders,  — callas 
and  caladiums,  the  pets  and  dainty  darlings  of 
our  greenhouses,  grow  in  out-of-the-way  cor- 
ners, seemingly  at  their  own  wild  will  ! I must 
say,  however,  that  I thought  the  former  not  so 
delicate  and  beautiful  as  when  grown  in  pots, 
as  with  us.  They  bear  no  comparison  to  the 
wonderful  Easter  lilies  of  Bermuda. 


VIII. 


It  is  Sunday  morning,  and  all  eyes  are 
turned  anxiously  to  the  signal  station  of  Mount 
Langton.  As  we  look,  a red-white-and-blue  pen- 
nant flies  from  the  yardarm,  announcing  that 
the  steamer  from  New  York  is  in  sight.  Now 
we  can  go  to  church  in  peace,  sure  of  getting 
our  mail  some  time  to-morrow.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  get  it  to-day,  and  after  a little  natural 
Yankee  grumbling  at  Bermudian  slowness  we 
accept  the  situation.  What  does  it  matter? 
What  does  anything  matter  in  this  lazy,  lotus- 
eating land,  where  it  seems  always  afternoon  ? 

The  Bermudians  are  a church-going  people. . 
The  question  asked  is  not,  “ Are  you  going  to 
church  to-day?  ” but,  “ Where  are  you  going?  ” 
The  going  is  taken  for  granted,  as  it  used  to  be 
in  New  England.  Yet  there  is  no  Puritanic 
sombreness.  All  is  gay  and  bright.  Flags  fly 
in  honor  of  the  day  from  Mount  Langton,  from 
Admiralty  House,  and  from  the  shipping  in  the 
harbor.  At  half  past  nine  a.  m.  precisely  a 
pennant  flies  from  the  staff  in  Victoria  Park, 
to  announce  that  church  time  is  near. 


BERMUDA . 


59 


We  Hamiltonians  can  go  to  Pembroke,  beau- 
tifully set  in  its  garden  of  green  ; or  to  Trinity, 
a handsome  church,  with  fine  memorial  win- 
dows, and  columns  and  arches  of  the  native 
stone.  Or  we  can  get  Charon  to  row  us  across 
the  ferry,  and  stroll  for  a mile  along  a quiet, 
shaded  country  road  to  the  beautiful  Paget 
church.  If  we  do  this  last,  we  shall  surely  be 
tempted  to  rest  a while  on  a low  stone  wall 
that  runs  parallel  with  the  road  behind  the 
parish  school,  and  try  to  fix  the  lovely  picture 
in  our  minds  forever. 

We  can  easily  find  a Presbyterian  kirk  and 
a Wesleyan  chapel.  But  here,  as  in  England, 
Dissenters  are  in  the  minority,  the  union  of 
church  and  state  being  very  close.  Surgeon 
General  John  Ogilvy,  in  a little  pamphlet  is- 
sued last  year,  gives  the  following  table  show- 
ing the  religious  preferences  of  the  inhabitants, 


according  to  the  census  of  1881 : — 

Church  of  England 10,003 

Wesleyan 1,672 

Methodist  Episcopal 752 

Roman  Catholic 391 

Reformed  Episcopal 208 

Wherever  we  go,  however,  we  shall  find  the 


same  pleasant  and  cordial  mingling  of  whites 
and  blacks  in  the  audience.  Bermuda  does 
not  raise  a partition  wall  between  her  children, 


6o 


BERMUDA. 


setting  the  light  on  one  side,  the  dark  on  the 
other.  Their  pews  are  side  by  side  in  the 
flower-decked  churches,  and  as  a rule  the  col- 
ored people  are  as  neatly  dressed,  as  well  man- 
nered, and  as  devout  as  their  lighter  brethren. 
One  cannot  look  upon  their  tranquil,  thought- 
ful faces,  or  hear  their  low -toned,  musical 
voices  in  the  responses,  without  thanking  God 
for  what  fifty  years  of  freedom,  under  favora- 
ble auspices,  can  do  for  the  black  race. 

Just  here  I beg  to  make  a short  extract  from 
Dr.  Ogilvy : — 

“ The  colored  people  of  the  island  are  the 
descendants  of  the  old  negro  and  American 
Indian  slaves,  much  intermingled  with  white 
blood,  and  are  gradually,  by  their  energy  and 
wish  to  improve  themselves,  by  schooling  and 
otherwise,  taking  up  a better  position  with  re- 
gard to  the  whites.  They  are  also  slowly  ac- 
quiring the  ownership  of  patches  of  land,  and 
dotting  the  country  with  their  cottages  of  lime- 
washed  stone.  The  rural  population  is,  per- 
haps, better  housed  than  in  most  countries. 
This  is  favored  by  the  continual  subdivision  of 
the  land  into  small  parcels.  . . . The  still 
higher  development  of  the  colored  race  may 
be  looked  for  in  the  not  distant  future.  Even 
now  their  ambition  aspires  to  a share  in  the 
administration,  although  caste  prejudices  are 


BERMUDA . 


6l 


still  strong,  even  amongst  the  different  strata 
of  the  European  residents.  At  least  one  mem- 
ber of  the  House  of  Assembly  is  a colored 
man.” 

Dr.  Ogilvy  refers  to  the  energy  of  the  race, 
and  to  their  wish  to  improve  themselves  and 
their  condition.  His  position  as  principal 
medical  officer,  Bermuda  Command,  gives  him 
unquestionable  facilities  for  knowing  whereof 
he  speaks.  It  is  the  fashion,  however,  to  say 
that  the  blacks  are  lazy  and  shiftless  ; a state- 
ment that,  as  far  as  a mere  observer  could 
judge,  does  not  seem  to  be  exactly  warranted 
by  the  facts.  Certainly  their  houses  are  as  good 
as  those  of  the  lower  class  of  whites,  and  in 
many  cases  very  much  better ; their  little  fields 
are  as  well  tilled,  and  they  themselves  are  as 
well  clothed  and  as  well  fed.  I was  told  that 
they  were  more  eager  than  the  working  classes 
among  the  whites  to  avail  themselves  of  all 
the  privileges  of  the  schools  for  their  children. 

As  for  their  “ laziness,”  everybody  is  lazy 
in  Bermuda,  speaking  from  a New  England 
point  of  view  ; but  it  is  a very  charming  lazi- 
ness, and  it  remains  to  be  proved  that  the 
blacks  are  any  more  fond  of  taking  their  ease 
than  are  their  white  brethren.  It  is  in  the  very 
air.  The  land  is  a lovely,  dreamy,  restful  land, 
and  to  expect  of  its  children  the  push  and  “ go- 


62 


BERMUDA . 


ahead-a-tive-ness  ” of  a typical  Yankee  is  to 
expect  impossibilities. 

A little  good-natured  laughter  may  be  al- 
lowed when  one  discovers  that  a tradesman, 
getting  a little  tired  of  the  pressing  cares  of 
business,  simply  locks  his  door  and  goes  off  to 
recreate  for  a longer  or  shorter  period,  as  the 
case  may  be.  One  may  smile  at  the  fabulous 
story  of  the  commission  merchant  who  still 
keeps  open  doors,  — if  the  sun  shines,  — and 
who  thinks  he  does  a good  business  though  he 
has  not  had  a fresh  consignment  of  goods  since 
1858 ! But  most  of  us  have  two  strains  of 
blood  in  our  natures.  The  wide-awake,  stirring 
northern  current  might  rebel  after  a while,  at 
the  easy,  careless,  happy-go-lucky  life  of  these 
islands.  I rather  think  it  would,  in  most  cases. 
But  it  suits  the  sensuous  southern  strain  to  a 
charm ; and  as  most  of  us  came  here  for  rest 
and  recuperation,  why  should  we  quarrel  with 
it  ? Why  should  we  not  take  the  good  the 
gods  provide,  and  be  therewith  content  ? If  we 
can  carry  home  with  us  a little  Bermudian  re- 
pose to  engraft  upon  the  stock  of  our  Amer- 
ican restlessness  and  feverish  excitability,  the 
fruit  our  trees  will  bear  in  the  next  generation 
may,  perhaps,  be  all  the  sweeter. 

Bermuda  belongs  to  the  see  of  Newfound' 
land  and  Labrador,  the  bishop  making  a yearly 


BERMUDA. 


63 

visitation.  What  a rounding  of  the  circle,  — 
to  live  half  the  year  in  frozen  Labrador,  and 
half  in  soft  Bermuda ! 

There  are  nine  parishes,  with  the  names  of 
which  the  visitor  soon  grows  as  familiar  as 
with  the  streets  of  his  native  town ; if  he  stays 
long  he  talks  of  St.  George’s,  Hamilton  Parish, 
Smith’s  Parish,  Devonshire,  Pembroke,  Paget, 
Warwick,  Southampton,  and  Sandys  as  glibly 
as  the  islanders  themselves.  Hamilton  Par- 
ish, however,  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
town  of  Hamilton,  which  is  in  the  parish  of  Pem- 
broke. Each  parish  has  its  own  church,  but  it 
is  often  the  case  that  one  clergyman  officiates 
in  two  parishes,  holding  service  in  one  in  the 
forenoon  and  in  the  other  in  the  afternoon  or 
evening.  Wherever  we  went  we  found  the  mu- 
sic good,  the  services  conducted  with  great  rev- 
erence and  decorum,  and  the  attendance  what 
we  should  consider  exceptionally  large  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  inhabitants.  Crowds 
of  children,  both  white  and  colored,  running 
and  walking  hand  in  hand,  neatly  dressed,  and 
with  happy,  smiling  faces,  thronged  the  Sun- 
day-schools. 

It  strikes  one  singularly  to  hear  in  this  re- 
mote dot  in  the  boundless  seas  that  schools 
and  public  libraries  were  introduced  as  far 
back  as  1631 ; and  that  under  the  influence  of 


BERMUDA. 


64 

Oliver  Cromwell,  Lord  Protector,  church  mat- 
ters excited  general  interest,  — Sabbath-break- 
ing, intoxication,  witchcraft , and  other  offenses 
being  punished  with  Puritanical  rigor.  Shade 
of  Cotton  Mather  ! Who  can  believe  it  ? 

Yet  we  are  told,  too,  that  the  first  Methodist 
minister  who  was  sent  from  England  to  Ber- 
muda, in  1799,  was  received  with  great  intol- 
erance, and  was  submitted  to  persecution  and 
imprisonment.  This  state  of  things  lasted 
but  a short  time,  however,  and  there  are  now 
nine  Wesleyan  churches,  one  Methodist  Epis- 
copal, two  Presbyterian,  one  Reformed  Epis- 
copal, and  one  Roman  Catholic. 

Variety  enough  for  nineteen  sparsely  settled 
square  miles  ! Bermuda  would  have  afforded 
a beautiful  field  for  the  establishment  of  the 
one  Broad  Church  of  which  we  dream.  But  it 
must  needs  follow  the  fashion,  and  weaken  its 
strength  by  splitting  itself  up  into  diverse  and 
opposing  sects,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Parliament  is  composed  of  a legislative  and 
executive  council,  appointed  by  the  crown,  and 
an  assembly.  The  latter,  formed  of  four  mem- 
bers from  each  parish,  is  elected  for  a term  of 
seven  years.  The  schools  are  in  charge  of  the 
parish  authorities,  who  are  empowered  to  en- 
force attendance.  A fine  is  exacted  from  the 
parent  if  the  child  fails  to  appear.  There  are 


BERMUDA. 


65 

also  several  private  schools,  which  are  said  to 
be  good.  At  all  events,  the  Bermudians  are 
refined  and  intelligent,  and  by  far  the  greater 
number,  of  course,  have  been  educated  at 
home.  Now  and  then  the  son  or  daughter  of 
a well-to-do  family  is  sent  to  England  to  be 
“ finished,”  but  one  meets  many  bright  and 
clever  men  and  women  who  have  never  left 
the  islands. 

Several  attempts  have  been  made  to  estab- 
lish a college,  or  classical  school  of  a high 
grade,  but  they  seem  to  have  come  to  naught. 
It  is  said  that  the  public  schools  have  much 
to  contend  with  in  the  absence  of  thoroughly 
trained  teachers,  — a want  not  easily  filled  so 
far  from  the  sources  of  supply. 

Slavery,  which  was  established  about  the 
year  1618,  and  which  had  been  a gentle  bon- 
dage from  the  first,  was  abolished  in  1834, 
without  the  usual  term  of  apprenticeship. 
There  were  at  that  time  4,200  slaves  in  the 
islands.  England  paid  the  owners  at  the  rate 
of  about  seven  pounds,  for  each  slave, — cer- 
tainly not  an  exorbitant  sum  for  flesh  and 
blood,  with  the  soul  thrown  in,  if  it  is  worth 
anything.  But  emancipation  proved  an  entire 
success.  Most  of  the  slaves  were  greatly  at- 
tached to  their  masters,  and  they  all  received 
the  gift  of  freedom  with  absolute  equanimity. 

5 


IX. 


I found  myself  continually  wondering  how 
life  looked,  what  the  wide  world  was  like,  to 
eyes  that  had  seen  nothing  but  blue  seas, 
blue  skies,  perpetual  summer,  and  the  narrow 
spaces  of  this  island  group.  What  impressions 
do  they  form  of  vast,  silent,  lonely  prairies, 
almost  as  limitless  as  their  ocean  reaches  ? 
what  of  towering  mountains  and  far-stretching 
continents  ? How  do  they  picture  snow  and 
hoar-frost,  — like  wool  ? How  do  they  dream 
of  crowded  cities,  single  streets  of  which  give 
shelter  to  more  inhabitants  than  those  of  all 
Bermuda?  Cathedrals,  temples,  towers,  and 
palaces,  — the  whole  domain  of  art  and  rec- 
ondite learning,  with  its  galleries,  its  libraries, 
its  museums ; the  world  of  humanity,  with  its 
large  charities,  its  vast  enterprises,  its  com- 
merce that  binds  nations  together  in  bonds  of 
common  interest,  — how  can  they  grasp  them 
all  ? 

It  would  be  strange  if  a certain  insular  nar- 
rowness were  not  sometimes  to  be  felt,  as  when 
a lady  said  to  her  friend,  “ I wonder  what  the 


BERMUDA.  67 

world  would  do  without  Bermuda  ! Just  think 
how  many  potatoes  and  onions  we  export ! ” 

A bright  little  girl  said  to  me,  “ I would  like 
to  visit  you.  If  ever  I go  to  America,  I would 
seek  to  find  your  house.” 

What  comprehension  could  she  have  of  any 
place,  or  any  state  of  society,  in  which  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  find  the  way  to  the  house  of 
any  friend  ? 

It  is  a blessed  fact  that  one’s  own  home  is 
the  hub  of  the  universe.  Bermuda  does  not 
seem  small  to  its  inhabitants.  To  them  it  is 
the  world,  and  holds  the  fullness  thereof. 
“ The  maps  do  not  do  us  justice,”  said  one  of 
them  to  the  writer.  “For  you  see  we  really 
are  not  so  very  small.” 

But  the  truth  is  that  in  its  exceeding  small- 
ness lies  one  of  its  chief  charms.  And  to 
realize  how  small  it  is  one  must  visit  the  light- 
house, a drive  of  six  miles,  or  so,  from  Hamil- 
ton. Down  the  hill  to  Front  Street,  past  Par- 
liament House  and  the  Public  Library,  past 
Pembroke  Hall  and  its  group  of  Royal  Palms, 
— five  magnificent  trees,  lifting  their  stately, 
granite-colored  shafts  like  columns  in  some  an- 
cient temple,  — • round  the  harbor,  and  then  on 
through  Paget  and  Warwick  to  Gibbs’s  Hill  in 
Southampton.  This  is  one  of  the  most  de- 
lightful drives  possible,  the  road  running  past 


68 


BERMUDA. 


fine  country  mansions  and  cosy  cottages,  with 
here  and  there  a glimpse  of  the  shining  sea. 
Just  where  we  leave  the  highway  to  go  to 
Gibbs’s  Hill  we  pass  a ruined  house,  weird  and 
sombre  in  its  desolation.  It  is  a place  to 
haunt  one’s  dreams.  The  high  stone  steps 
are  worn  in  great  suggestive  hollows.  The 
water  tank  is  empty,  and  rats  have  taken  pos- 
session. From  the  broken  windows  -ghostly 
faces  seem  peering  out.  But  we  pick  a gera- 
nium that  flaunts  gayly  in  the  sun  by  the  shat- 
tered door-sill,  and  go  on  our  upward  and  wind- 
ing way  to  the  light-house. 

All  one  has  to  do  to  make  a cutting  grow  in 
Bermuda  is  to  stick  it  in  the  ground,  — either 
end  up ! It  seemed  to  make  little  difference 
which.  On  returning  home  that  night  I put 
the  slip  from  the  “ ruined-house  geranium  ” in 
a pot  of  lilies  on  the  balcony.  It  took  root 
immediately,  and  is  growing  to-day  under  the 
shadow  of  snow -clad  hills.  What  does  it 
think  of  them,  I wonder  ? 

Up  and  up  we  go  until  we  reach  what  is  next 
to  the  highest  point  on  the  islands.  Yet 
Gibbs’s  Hill,  which  enjoys  this  amazing  alti- 
tude, is  only  245  feet  above  high-water  level. 
The  light-house  is  a massive  tower  of  stone, 
filled  in  with  concrete,  130  feet  high.  From 
the  deck  of  a ship,  forty  feet  from  the  water,  the 


BERMUDA. 


69 

light  can  be  seen  about  thirty-three  miles  away. 
It  is,  we  are  told,  a “ revolving  dioptric  lens  of 
the  first  order,  with  mirrors,”  which  will  with- 
out doubt  be  intelligible  to  every  reader,  be  he 
scientific  or  not.  It  has  one  centre  lamp  of 
three  concentric  wicks,  and  is  among  the  larg- 
est and  most  powerful  lights  in  the  world.  It 
shows  a bright  flash  continuing  for  six  or  eight 
seconds,  and  repeated  once  every  minute. 

The  ascent  of  the  lofty  tower  is  not  difficult, 
in  spite  of  its  height,  for  after  mounting  the 
first  twenty-two  feet,  to  the  main  floor,  you  find 
yourself  in  a large  and  airy  room  where  you 
can  sit  and  rest  as  long  as  you  please.  Above 
that  are  twelve  flights  of  stairs  and  twelve 
other  rooms ; thus  avoiding  the  continuous, 
breathless  ascent  that  is  so  fatiguing.  Then 
comes  the  gallery;  but  before  going  out  we 
must  climb  the  steep  and  narrow  stairs  into  the 
light  itself.  The  whole  building  is  most  ex- 
quisitely kept,  its  polished  floors  and  glittering 
brasses  being  dainty  enough  for  my  lady’s  bou- 
doir. By  looking  into  the  lens,  you  get  a 
lovely  view  of  the  scene  below  in  miniature. 
The  effect  is  like  that  of  a Claude  Lorraine 
glass. 

Civil  service  means  something  in  Bermuda. 
One  of  the  three  keepers  told  me  he  had  not 
left  his  lonely  eyrie  for  a night  in  seventeen 


70 


BERMUDA. 


years,  and  it  was  evident  he  considered  himself 
settled  for  life.  Very  proud  were  the  three  of 
their  stately  and  beautiful  charge,  touching  the 
costly  and  delicate  machinery  as  tenderly  as  if 
it  were  a sentient  being  and  felt  their  caressing 
hands. 

But  it  is  the  view  from  the  gallery  we  came 
to  see,  and  out  we  go,  with  a word  of  caution 
from  the  guide  as  to  the  wind.  We  are  on  the 
very  outermost  point  of  the  southwestern  coast, 
and  from  where  we  stand  we  can  take  in  the 
whole  island  group,  from  St.  George’s  to  Ire- 
land. What  a little  spot  it  is,  to  be  sure  ! — a 
mere  point  in  the  illimitable  waste  of  waters 
that  stretch  away  to  the  horizon  on  every  side. 
The  little  Isle  of  Wight  is  eight  times  as  large. 
But  the  view  is  magnificent  beyond  description. 
The  coloring,  the  exquisite,  ethereal  softness  of 
the  changeful  tints  of  sea  and  sky  and  purple 
reefs  fading  to  palest  amethyst,  while  blending 
with  it  all  is  a glow  and  fire  like  the  light  in 
the  heart  of  a diamond,  — this  is  something 
that  cannot  be  put  into  words.  To  the  right 
and  to  the  left  stretch  the  larger  islands,  with 
their  fair  green  shores.  Before  us  lies  the 
Great  Sound,  studded  with  fairy  islets,  each 
flooded  with  a mystic  glory,  beyond  which  the 
eye  seeks  the  far  horizon.  Below  us,  at  our 
very  feet,  are  “The  Sickle”  and  “The  Spec- 


BERMUDA. 


71 


tacles  ” islands,  so  named  from  their  shape. 
White  houses,  half  buried  in  foliage,  dot  the 
landscape  from  one  extremity  to  the  other.  In 
short,  it  is  worth  the  half  of  one’s  kingdom  to 
stand  for  just  half  an  hour,  of  a clear  after- 
noon, on  the  lighthouse  tower  at  Gibbs’s  Hill. 

How  long  we  stood  there  I will  not  under- 
take to  say.  We  were  very  silent.  It  was  not 
a thing  to  chatter  about.  But  at  length  I ven- 
tured on  a commonplace. 

“Nemo,”  I said,  “we  have  made  a mistake.” 

He  looked  at  me  anxiously,  disentangling 
my  long  veil  that  the  wind  had  wound  about  his 
arm.  “ In  coming  up  here  ? Was  it  too  much 
for  you  ? Dear  me,  I ’m  sorry ! But  it  will  be 
easier  going  down.” 

“ No,  no,”  I said ; “ it  is  not  that  at  all. 
Our  mistake  was  in  not  coming  earlier.  One 
should  come  here  the  very  first  thing,  — to  get 
the  lay  of  the  land,  if  for  no  other  reason.  It 
is  better  than  studying  a dozen  maps.” 


X. 


“ What  if  I were  to  go  to  Chubb’s  Cut  to- 
day, Lady  Mither?”  said  Nemo,  one  morning 
as  he  came  in  from  breakfast.  “ What  would 
you  do  with  yourself  ? For  it  is  quite  too  hard 
a trip  for  you.” 

“ ‘ Chubb’s  Cut  ’ ! ” I repeated.  “ What  and 
where  may  that  be  ? ” 

“ Pilot  Scott  can  answer  that  question  better 
than  I ; but  it  is  one  of  the  outermost  of  the 
outer  reefs.  Two  or  three  of  us  have  thought 
of  going  out.  We  should  take  the  Moondyne 
to  Boaz,  hire  Pilot  Scott  and  his  boat  for  eight- 
een shillings,  take  our  lunch,  and  make  a day 
of  it.  But  what  would  you  do,  meanwhile  ? ” 

“ Never  mind  me,”  I answered.  “I  shall 
wrrite  three  letters.  I shall  mend  my  dress.  I 
shall  fill  these  vases  with  the  pomegranate  flow- 
ers you  brought  me  from  Peniston’s  yesterday, 
adding  some  scarlet  heath  and  two  white  lil- 
ies. Perhaps  I shall  read  a chapter  in  Mrs. 
Child’s  “ Life  and  Letters.”  Then  I shall  put 
on  my  bonnet  and  go  in  search  of  the  amber 
you  wot  of,  and  if  my  money  holds  out  I shall 


BERMUDA. 


73 


buy  me  a cross  and  a rosary.  After  lunch  I 
shall  ask  Saint  Catharine  to  go  rowing  with 
me  — and  ” — 

“ Hold,  hold  ! that  ’s  enough  ! and  I think  I 
may  leave  you  with  a clear  conscience,”  cried 
Nemo,  as  he  strode  off,  laughing. 

I carried  out  my  programme  to  the  letter. 
After  a good  deal  of  trouble,  I found  the  place 
where  I had  heard  there  was  some  fine  amber, 
and  it  held  me  fascinated  for  an  hour. 

Where  does  amber  get  its  strange  poetic 
charm? — a charm  of  which  even  its  prosaic 
association  with  croup  cannot  rob  it?  The 
cyclopaedia  may  go  on  telling  us  it  is  a “ fos- 
silized vegetable  gum  ” till  doomsday ; but 
who  in  his  inmost  heart  believes  it  ? It  is  liq- 
uid light  crystallized.  These  clear,  transparent 
drops  can  own  no  lower  origin. 

Here  in  this  queer  place  — a room  connected 
with  a common  grocery  — I found  among  num- 
berless strings  of  cheap  amber  some  necklaces 
and  bracelets  of  rare  beauty;  clear,  translucent 
orbs  that  did  indeed  “ answer  to  the  sun.” 

“ Oh,  liquidly  the  sunlight  filters  through 

These  shining  spheres  of  warm  translucent  gold, 
Changing  to  drops  of  rich  and  wondrous  hue, 

Like  precious  wine  of  vintage  rare  and  old.” 

I bought  a necklace,  to  be  worn  some  day  by 
one  whose  rich,  dark  beauty  will  adorn  it : — 


74 


BERMUDA. 


“ An  amulet,  not  made  of  gems  or  gold, 

But  drops  of  light  imprisoned  from  above. 

Gold  were  too  heavy,  gems  too  hard  and  cold ; 
And  only  amber  suits  the  soul  of  love  ! ” 

That  evening  I bedecked  myself  with  these 
spoils,  not  of  war,  but  of  research.  With  an 
apologetic  44  Allow  me,”  a lady  touched  the 
cross  lightly.  44  This  tells  its  own  story,”  she 
said.  44  You  found  it  in  Rome  ? ” 

“ No,”  I answered ; 44  I found  it  here,  this 
morning,  in  a grocery  not  far  from  the  Bishop’s 
lodge.  Rome  is  everywhere,  if  one  only  looks 
for  it.” 

After  lunch  Saint  Catharine  and  I went  down 
to  the  dock,  where  we  speedily  found  a boat 
and  a stalwart  oarsman.  He  looked  to  me  for 
orders  as  he  took  up  his  oars. 

44  Round  White’s  Island  first,  that  we  may 
pay  our  respects  to  the  Lady  of  the  Prow.” 

The  man  looked  bewildered  for  a moment; 
then  a slow  smile  crept  over  his  dark  face. 

44  You  want  to  go  by  the  old  hulk,  lady  ? Is 
that  it  ? ” 

44  Yes, — the  one  with  the  white  figure-head.” 

Very  soon  we  were  under  the  bows  of  a once 
magnificent  ship,  — now  a blackened  hulk,  — 
looking  up  at  the  grand  white  figure  of  a woman 
with  strong,  impassive  face  and  steadfast  eyes 
that  peered  out  over  the  deep  with  earnest, 


BERMUDA. 


75 


questioning  gaze.  What  had  they  not  seen, 
those  eyes  ? What  storms  had  she  not  breasted, 
what  perils  had  she  not  encountered,  still  with 
that  calm,  unshrinking  front  ? She  was  strength, 
courage,  and  faith  personified.” 

“‘Ora  pro  nobis,  his  nightfall  on  the  sea/  ” 
we  chanted  under  our  breath ; and  then  we 
glided  away,  past  Fairyland,  with  its  wooded 
knolls  and  shady  retreats,  to  Magazine  Island. 
Here  great  quantities  of  ammunition  are  stored, 
and  powder  enough  to  blow  up  the  whole  island 
range.  The  place  is  strictly  guarded  ; and  by 
day  and  by  night  an  armed  sentry  paces  back 
and  forth  on  the  path  from  the  little  dock  to 
the  magazine  or  storehouse,  peering  into  the 
barred  entrance  to  the  latter  at  every  turn. 

A number  of  marines  were  lazily  sunning 
themselves  on  the  rocks.  As  we  rowed  around 
the  island,  they  rose  and  followed  us,  keeping 
us  constantly  in  sight,  — whether  from  mere 
curiosity,  or  because  it  was  their  duty  to  keep 
an  eye  on  all  strangers,  is  more  than  I can 
say. 

“ Can  you  row  into  the  caves,  do  you  think  ? ” 
asked  Saint  Catharine,  smiling  sweetly. 

“ Unless  it  is  too  near  low  tide,  lady,”  replied 
our  dark  gondolier ; and  in  a moment  we  were 
in  a low,  broad  cave,  hung  with  rude  stalactites 
and  dripping  with  moisture. 


BERMUDA. 


76 

These  caves  are  to  be  found  all  along  the 
coasts,  and  seem  to  have  been  formed  — 

But  I will  not  attempt  to  say  how,  or  by  what, 
— unless  it  may  be  by  the  force  of  the  advanc- 
ing and  receding  waves  washing  away  the  sand 
and  debris,  and  leaving  the  hardened  coral 
rock.  It  would  take  a geologist  — which  I am 
not  — to  account  for  them  scientifically. 

But  they  are  very  curious  and  interesting, 
full  of  strange  growths  and  marine  formations. 
Here  the  sea-anemones  cling  to  the  rocks  and 
shrink  like  the  leaves  of  the  sensitive  plant  if 
you  do  but  touch  them.  As  large  as  your  hat 
at  one  moment,  and  gorgeous  in  pink  and  gold, 
at  the  approach  of  a cane  or  parasol  they  will 
collapse  into  utter  nothingness,  and  withdraw 
wholly  out  of  sight  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks. 
Here  are  curious  creatures  called  “ suck-rocks  ” 
by  the  boatmen,  — a very  aristocrat  of  a shell- 
fish that  lives  in  a lovely  boat,  daintily  curved 
and  jointed,  soft  ashen  gray  on  the  outside  and 
lined  with  blue  satin. 

Here,  too,  perhaps,  a Portuguese  man-of-war 
will  sail  defiantly  near  you.  Little  cares  he  for 
soldiers  or  marines,  arsenals  or  ammunition ! 

We  passed  negro  fishermen  with  seines,  and 
paused  to  watch  them  as  they  drew  in  their 
nets,  filled  with  the  scaly  spoil. 

There  was  just  motion  enough  to  make  the 


BERMUDA . 


77 

boat  dance ; the  sun  was  veiled  by  light,  fleecy 
clouds;  the  heat  was  tempered  by  the  gentle 
breeze. 

“Take  us  out  beyond  Spanish  Point, ” I said, 
“ where  the  surf  is  dashing  over  the  reefs ; and 
then  land  us  at  the  point.” 

How  lovely  it  all  was  ! Do  you  remember  it, 
sweet  Saint  Catharine,  of  the  dove-like  eyes? 
We  strayed  about  on  the  shining  beach;  we 
climbed  the  rocks,  and,  sitting  in  a sheltered 
nook,  our  eyes  wandered  far  across  the  blue  and 
sparkling  bay  to  the  green  shores  of  Somerset 
and  Boaz,  picturesque  with  arched  bridges  and 
peaceful  as  a dream,  — then  on  to  Ireland  Isl- 
and, with  its  forts,  its  many  masts,  and  all  the 
stir  of  active  live.  It  is  the  only  busy  place  in 
all  Bermuda. 

We  lay  on  the  soft,  warm  sand,  and  picked 
up  myriads  of  shells,  — such  tiny,  frail,  softly- 
tinted  things  that  we  could  but  pity  them  as  we 
thought  of  their  long  bufferings  with  wind  and 
wave.  We  repeated,  as  the  small  breakers 
chased  each  other  up  the  beach,  Helen  Lud- 
low's poem  of  “ The  Little  White  Beggars  ” that 
begged  “for  the  shells  and  the  seaweed  and 
sand  ;”  and  finally,  after  a long  afternoon  of 
pure  delight,  we  got  into  our  boat  again,  and 
were  rowed  slowly  homeward  in  the  sunset 
glow. 


BERMUDA . 


73 

Saint  Catharine  had  been  in  Bermuda  much 
longer  than  I,  and  felt  herself  quite  an  old  res- 
ident. “ What  is  that  ? ” I asked,  pointing  to 
a low  monument  gleaming  on  a lonely  point  of 
rock  that  projected  into  the  sea.  “ I am  sure 
it  has  a story.” 

“ A pathetic  one,”  she  answered.  “ Years  ago 
the  regiments  stationed  here  were  decimated 
by  some  terrible  epidemic,  — yellow  fever,  I be- 
lieve. That  stone  was  erected  by  the  survivors 
in  memory  of  their  lost  comrades.” 

“ Poor  fellows  ! ” I said,  as,  we  drifted  by. 
“ Do  they  have  yellow  fever  here  ? I did  not 
know  it.  Let ’s  see  — when  does  the  next 
steamer  sail  ? ” 

“You  need  not  be  in  haste  to  get  away. 
There  has  n’t  been  a case  in  nineteen  years, 
I am  told.  But  the  islands  have  been  ravaged 
several  times  by  that,  or  something  else.” 

We  floated  on  down  the  harbor  towards 
Hamilton,  the  shores  becoming  more  thickly 
settled  as  we  neared  the  quaint  white  town. 

“ Do  you  see  that  tall  cedar,  in  front  of  that 
long,  jalousied,  and  balconied  house?”  asked 
Saint  Catharine.  “ That,  too,  has  a story.  It 
is  the  custom  here  to  plant,  if  one  may  use  the 
expression,  a little  cedar-tree  in  the  frosting  of 
the  bride’s-cake.  The  diminutive  thing  is  care- 
fully removed  after  the  cake  meets  its  legiti- 


BERMUDA. 


79 

mate  fate,  and  replanted  near  the  dwelling  of 
the  wedded  lovers.  Fifty  years  or  so  ago,  two 
little  trees  decorated  a certain  bride’s-cake. 
Both  were  planted  afterwards,  and  they  grew 
side  by  side  for  half  a century.  Not  long  ago 
the  bride  of  that  ancient  wedding  died,  and 
one  of  the  trees  fell,  too.  From  its  fragrant 
wood  her  coffin  was  made.  The  other  waits 
its  turn.” 

We  scarcely  heard  the  dip  of  the  oars,  so 
softly  and  silently  we  floated  onward.  “ Come 
to  think  of  it,”  I said,  at  last,  “ this  must  be  a 
queer  place  for  a bridal  tour.  How  do  they 
manage  it  ? Do  the  Hamiltonians  go  to  St. 
George,  and  the  St.  Georgians  return  the  com- 
pliment by  going  to  Hamilton  ? ” 

“ I don’t  know,”  she  answered,  laughing. 
“ One  might  put  up  a tent  on  one  of  these 
lovely,  uninhabited  islands,  and  so  live  in  sweet 
seclusion.  But  have  n’t  you  seen  the  rose- 
wreathed  1 Honeymoon  Cottage,’  near  Fairy- 
land ? Perhaps  that  solves  the  mystery.  A 
bridal  couple  are  keeping  house  for  a month 
or  two  at  the  Eagle’s  Nest  just  now,  I believe.” 

Nemo  and  his  friends  came  home  at  night, 
full  of  enthusiasm  over  Chubb’s  Cut,  for  which 
place  they  had  put  out  from  Mangrove  Bay 
in  a little  boat  of  twelve  foot  keel,  with  two 
oarsmen.  After  putting  out  to  sea  for  about 


8o 


BERMUDA. 


two  miles  and  a half,  a breeze  sprang  up  and 
the  smooth  sea  took  on  a ruffle.  An  hour 
passed  before  they  caught  glimpses  of  the 
buoys  at  the  Cut,  and  met  the  ocean  swell  that 
tossed  the  little  boat  gloriously.  Bermuda  was 
but  a faint  cloud  in  the  distance,  and  around 
them  was  immensity.  While  they  ate  their 
lunch,  dipping  their  biscuit  in  sea-water  for  a 
relish,  the  boat  drifted  nearly  to  the  “ fair-way 
buoy,”  as  it  is  called,  around  which  the  waves 
dashed  tumultuously,  making  the  float  tug 
fiercely  at  its  chain,  and  keeping  up  a strange, 
metallic  “ clang ! clang  ! ” which  could  only  be 
compared  to  the  sound  of  a hoarse  and  heavy 
bell,  struck  under  water.  And  then  — the 
reefs  ! 

I foresaw  that  night  that  Chubb’s  Cut  was 
doomed  to  my  bete  iioir . I shall  see  the  inner 
reefs  with  all  their  marvels  of  form  and  color, 
but  what  of  that  ? I shall  never  dare  to  go  out 
in  that  little  boat ; and  whatever  else  I may  see 
or  not  see,  to  the  end  of  my  days  I shall  be 
reminded  that  I have  never  seen  Chubb’s  Cut ! 

Query,  why  is  it  Chubb’s  Cut  ? 


XI. 


Having  done  much  tramping  within  a day 
or  two,  what  if  we  were  to  take  a drive  to-day, 
— a long  one  to  St.  George’s  ? We  can  go  by 
the  North  Road,  the  South  Road,  or  the  Middle 
Road.  They  are  all  good.  But  we  will  take 
the  North,  returning  by  the  South.  The  com- 
fortable carriage  has  seats  for  four ; but  we 
look  dubiously  at  the  one  horse,  until  we  are 
told  that  on  these  hard,  smooth  roads,  hewn  out 
of  the  solid  rock,  one  horse  will  do  the  work 
of  two.  It  is  whispered,  also,  under  the  rose, 
that  there  are  not  more  than  four  pairs  of 
horses,  or  “ double  teams,”  in  all  Bermuda. 

So  off  we  go,  in  the  cool,  clear  morning, 
bright  with  sunshine  and  odorous  with  flower 
scents.  As  we  bowl  swiftly  along,  the  sea 
sparkles  at  our  left,  as  if  there  were  a diamond 
in  the  heart  of  every  sapphire  wave.  Between 
us  and  it  the  slight  and  graceful  tamarisk  rises 
like  a pale  green  mist.  The  Bermudians  call 
it  the  “salt  cedar.”  Taste  it,  and  you  get  the 
very  flavor  of  the  brine.  To  the  right  are  un- 
dulating hills  and  sleepy  valleys,  with  pretty 
6 


82 


BERMUDA. 


cottages  nestling  in  their  green  recesses,  and 
here  and  there  a stately  mansion  perched  far 
up  on  some  height  that  commands  two  ocean 
views.  We  pass  clumps  of  cedar  and  thickets 
of  the  fan-leaved  palmetto.  The  curious,  club- 
like paw-paw  rises,  straight  as  an  arrow,  with  a 
tuft  of  leaves  at  the  top,  and  fruit,  looking  not 
unlike  a great  green  lemon,  growing  directly 
from  the  trunk.  The  aloe  is  in  bloom,  and  the 
Spanish  bayonet  bristles  by  the  wayside.  The 
drooping  purple  flower  of  the  banana  and  its 
heavy  clusters  of  fruit  are  in  every  garden. 
The  banana  is  as  omnipresent  as  the  onion. 

Often  the  road  passes  for  long  distances  be- 
tween lofty  walls  of  solid  rock,  from  the  crev- 
ices of  which  all  lovely  growths  are  springing. 
They  are  red  with  the  scarlet  of  the  geranium, 
aglow  with  the  orange  of  the  lantana,  or  they 
are  hidden  by  the  purple  veil  of  the  wild  con- 
volvulus. The  dainty  sweet-alyssum  clings  to 
the  rock  in  great  patches,  and  the  little  rice 
plant  lays  its  pink  cheek  against  it  lovingly. 
The  prickly-pear  clasps  its  fibrous  roots  round 
some  rough  stone,  and  stretches  out  an  un- 
couth arm  to  ward  you  off.  But,  as  if  to  make 
amends,  the  loveliest,  daintiest  ferns  smile  at 
you,  dancing  in  the  wind,  and  the  delicate 
maiden ’s-hair  waves  its  soft  fronds  caressingly 
as  you  go  by.  Here  and  everywhere  spring 


BERMUDA. 


83 


the  life-plant  and  the  blue  stars  of  the  Bermu- 
diana.  The  orange  is  not  now  in  fruit,  but  on 
many  of  the  lemon-trees  the  yellow  globes  are 
hanging  like  golden  lamps. 

A long  causeway  — a gigantic  piece  of  work, 
massive  and  strong  enough  to  defy  wind  and 
water  for  ages  — connects  St.  George’s  with  the 
mainland.  As  we  approach  it  a fresh  and  ex- 
quisite picture  meets  us  at  every  turn,  while 
the  views  from  the  causeway  itself  are  surpass- 
ingly fine.  It  is  nearly  two  miles  in  length, 
and  a revolving  bridge  gives  two  wide  water 
passages  for  boats. 

The  quaint,  picturesque  old  town,  which  was 
founded  in  1612,  seems  to  bristle  with  forts. 
Indeed,  this  is  true  of  the  whole  island  range, 
— the  Bermudas  being,  with  the  exception  of 
Gibraltar,  England’s  most  strongly  fortified 
hold.  One  not  to  the  manner  born  cannot  help 
wondering  why  this  infinitesimal  bit  of  land  in 
the  midst  of  mighty  seas  should  require  a fort 
on  every  exposed  point ; why  there  should  be 
batteries  and  martello  towers  at  every  turn, 
and  why  red-coats  and  marines  should  meet 
you  at  every  corner.  But  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  this  is  the  rendezvous  for  the  British 
fleet  in  all  these  waters,  and  here  vast  quanti- 
ties of  arms  and  ammunition  are  stored.  Eng- 
land doubtless  knows  her  own  business;  and 


BERMUDA. 


84 

it  cannot  be  questioned  that  her  strong  posi- 
tion here  would  give  her  an  immense  advan- 
tage, in  case  — which  may  God  forbid  ! — of 
her  ever  going  to  war  with  America.  Indeed, 
on  this  point  Godet  says,  in  his  history  of  Ber- 
muda published  in  London,  i860,  “Bermuda, 
conjointly  with  Halifax,  holds  in  check  the 
whole  Atlantic  coast  of  the  United  States,  upon 
which  nature  has  bestowed  no  equivalent  for 
naval  purposes  ; and  also  controls  the  West 
Indies,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  the  south 
coasts  of  the  United  States.  Since  the  exten- 
sive government  works  at  Bermuda  have  been 
undertaken,  the  island  is  found  more  con- 
venient, in  conjunction  with  Halifax,  as  the 
seat  of  naval  power,  as  it  greatly  facilitates  the 
dispatch  of  ships  to  the  West  India  stations 
and  the  American  Atlantic  coast.” 

Strangers  are  not  allowed  inside  the  forts. 
But  we  can  climb  the  heights,  if  we  choose, 
and  see  the  outside  of  the  show.  Or,  while  we 
are  waiting  for  dinner  to  be  made  ready  in  the 
old-fashioned  inn  facing  the  square,  where  the 
landlord  himself  will  serve  you  at  table,  carv- 
ing the  joints  with  his  own  hand,  we  can  sit  on 
the  broad  veranda  overlooking  Castle  Harbor, 
and  try  to  count  the  cannon  balls  stacked,  or 
piled,  — whatever  the  orthodox  word  may  be, 
— on  the  dock  of  a little  island  just  opposite  us. 


BERMUDA . 


85 

Tiring  of  this  we  can  wander  about  the  narrow 
streets,  with  their  odd  balconied  and  jalousied 
houses,  and  imagine  ourselves  in  the  Orient. 
Or  we  can  go  to  the  Public  Garden,  and  sit 
under  the  shade  of  date-palms  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years  old,  with  a tree  called  here 
“The  Flaming  Star,”  and  having  great  star- 
shaped flowers  of  a fiery  red,  in  front  of  us  ; 
and  at  our  right  another,  which  rejoices  in  the 
cognomen  of  “The  Monkey  Tree.”  Why,  no 
mortal  can  tell,  unless  it  is  because  no  monkey 
could  by  any  possibility  climb  it.  The  massive 
trunk  is  thickly  set  with  short,  sharp,  needle- 
like thorns. 

By  what  curious  law  of  contrasts  was  it  that 
under  these  rustling  palm-trees,  with  strange 
sounds  in  our  ears  and  unaccustomed  sights 
before  our  eyes,  Nemo  and  I sat  for  an  hour 
and  talked,  not  of  the  things  about  us,  but  of 
influences  that  had  moulded  character  in  a 
home  hundreds  of  miles  away,  of  graves  be- 
neath the  sod  and  in  the  deep,  of  the  living 
that  we  loved  and  of  the  dead  that  we  had  not 
forgotten  ? 

But  we  rise  at  last  to  look  about  us. 

Here,  in  the  ivy-covered  wall  at  the  left  of 
the  lower  gate,  — a dark  slab  in  a niche,  — is 
the  monument  of  Sir  George  Somers,  for  whom 
the  town  was  named,  and  in  honor  of  whom 


86 


BERMUDA . 


the  Bermudas  were  once  known  as  the  Somers 
Islands.  Only  his  heart  is  buried  here.  His 
body  lies  in  White  Church,  Dorsetshire,  Eng- 
land. In  the  wall  above  the  old  monument  is 
a white  marble  tablet,  erected  by  Lieutenant- 
General  Lefroy,  bearing  this  inscription  : — 

Near  this  spot 

Was  interred,  in  the  year  1610,  the  Heart  of  the 
Heroic  Admiral, 

Sir  GEORGE  SOMERS,  ICt., 

Who  nobiy  sacrificed  his  Life 
To  carry  succor 

To  the  infant  and  suffering  Plantation, 

Now 

The  State  of  Virginia. 

To  preserve  his  Name  to  Future  Ages 
Near  the  scene  of  his  memorable  shipwreck  of 
1609, 

The  Governor  and  Commander-in-Chief 
Of  this  Colony  for  the  time  being  caused  this 
tablet  to  be  erected. 

1876. 

To  us  Americans,  the  most  remarkable  thing 
about  the  tablet  was  the  modesty  of  Governor 
Lefroy,  who  was  content,  in  this  inscription 
that  will  endure  for  ages,  to  be  known  simply 
as  the  “ Commander-in-Chief  of  this  Colony 
for  the  time  being.”  Certainly  there  was  no 
blowing  of  his  own  trumpet  here. 

Building’s  Bay,  on  the  North  Shore,  is  be- 


BERMUDA. 


37 

lieved  to  be  the  spot  where,  after  the  ship- 
wreck, the  “ heroic  admiral  ” built  his  two  ce- 
dar ships,  the  Deliverance  and  the  Patience. 
The  Deliverance  was  a ship  of  eighty  tons, 
and  the  Patience  of  thirty.  There  was  but  one 
bolt  of  iron  used,  and  that  was  in  the  keel  of 
the  Deliverance  ; and  the  seams  of  both  ves- 
sels were  closed  with  a mixture  of  lime  and  oil. 

Perhaps  this  is  a fitting  time  and  place  to 
turn  our  eyes  backward  for  a moment.  Ber- 
muda was  first  discovered  in  1522,  by  Juan  Ber- 
mudas, when  on  a voyage  from  Old  Spain  to 
Cuba,  with  a cargo  of  hogs.  When  he  caught 
the  distant  view  of  the  island,  which  was  all  he 
had,  he  kindly  concluded  to  leave  behind  a few 
of  his  hogs,  that  they  might  take  possession 
of  the  uninhabited  island.  But  a strong  gale 
sprang  up,  and  drove  him  away  with  his  ship 
and  his  swine.  So  that  was  the  end  of  that 
venture. 

In  1543,  according  to  Godet,  Ferdinand  Ca- 
melo  took  formal  possession  of  Bermuda,  and 
is  stated  to  have  cut  his  name  and  a rude  cross 
on  a rock  still  known  as  Spanish  Rock,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  main  island.  The  place 
remained  uninhabited,  however,  and  attracted 
little  or  no  attention  until  after  the  shipwreck 
here  of  Sir  George  Somers.  When  he  sailed 
for  Virginia  in  his  little  cedar  vessels,  on  the 


88 


BERMUDA. 


ioth  of  May,  1610,  he  left  two  men  behind 
to  hold  possession  of  the  fair  islands.  He 
reached  his  destination  in  thirteen  days  ; but  af- 
ter a short  stay  in  Jamestown  again  embarked 
in  the  smaller  of  his  small  craft,  and  set  sail 
Bermudaward,  arriving  there  on  the  19th  of 
June.  Shortly  after,  he  died,  overcome  by  age 
and  the  great  fatigue  of  his  voyages.  The  few 
colonists,  disheartened  and  alarmed,  sailed  for 
England  with  his  embalmed  body,  leaving  his 
heart  behind  as  a legacy  to  the  lonely  spot  that 
for  a while  bore  his  name. 

In  the  Government  House  Garden  at  St. 
George's  there  may  still  be  found  a mutilated 
slab  of  coarse  stone,  on  which  is  engraved  the 
following  epitaph,  composed  by  Governor  Na- 
thaniel Butler : — 

“ In  the  Yeere  1611, 

Noble  Sir  George  Somers  went  hence  to  Heaven, 
Whose  well-tried  worth,  that  held  him  still  imploid, 
Gave  him  the  knowledge  of  the  world  so  wide, 

Hence,  ’t  was  by  Heaven’s  decree,  to  this  place 
He  brought  new  quests  and  name  to  mutual  grace  ; 

At  last  his  soul  and  body  being  to  part, 

He  here  bequeathed  his  entrails  and  his  heart.” 

England  now  made  serious  attempts  to  colo- 
nize Bermuda,  and  succeeded.  But  as  this  is 
not  a history,  we  need  not  bother  ourselves 
longer  with  dates  and  statistics  referring  to 
those  faraway  days.  Bermuda  had  been  re- 


BERMUDA. 


89 

garded  as  a “ prodigious  and  enchanted  place, 
where  no  one  had  ever  landed  but  against  his 
will.”  How  completely  the  tables  were  turned 
can  be  best  shown  by  giving  the  title-page  of 
a quaint  booklet  of  perhaps  a dozen  pages, 
printed  in  black  letter,  which  the  custodian  of 
the  Public  Library  at  Plamilton  exhibits  with 
much  pride.  It  bears  the  imprint  “ London, 
16 13,”  and  purports  to  be  Sir  George’s  own 
account  of  his  shipwreck  and  deliverance. 

“ A plain  Description  of  the  Bermudas,  now 
called  Somers  Islands  — with  the  manner  of 
their  discoverie,  Anno  1609,  by  the  ship-wracke 
& admirable  deliverance  of  Sir  Thomas  Gates 
& Sir  George  Somers, 

Wherein  are  truly  set  forth  the  commodities  & 
profits  of  that  Rich,  Pleasant,  and  Healthful 

Countrie, 

With 

An  addition,  or  more  ample  relation  of  divers 
other  remarkable  matters  concerning  those  Isl- 
ands since  then  experienced,  lately  sent  from 
thence  by  one  of  the  colonie  now  there  resi- 
dent. 

Ecclesiastes,  3 : n. 

God  made  everything  beautiful  in  his  time. 

London. 

Printed  by  W.  Stansby  for  W.  Walby. 

1613. 


90 


BERMUDA . 


To  the  Reader. 

Good  Reader  this  is  the  first  book  published 
to  the  world  touching  Somers  Islands  ; but 
who  shall  Jive  to  see  the  last?  A more  full  & 
exact  description  of  the  countrie  & narrative 
of  the  Nature,  site,  & commodities,  together 
with  a true  history  of  the  great  deliverance  of 
Sir  Thomas  Gates  & his  companie  upon  them, 
which  was  the  first  discoverer  of  them,  thou 
mayst  surely  expect,  if  God  will,  to  come  into 
thy  hands.  This  short  narrative,  in  the  mean- 
time, shall  rather  prepare  thee  for  it,  than  pre- 
vent thee  of  it.” 

Who  shall  decide  when  doctors  disagree  ? 
Even  as  early  as  1613,  who  discovered  Ber- 
muda seems  to  have  been  a mooted  question. 
But  whoever  may  have  been  the  ostensible 
commander  of  the  expedition  for  the  relief  of 
Virginia,  there  is  no  doubt  that  Sir  George 
Somers  was  its  ruling  spirit,  its  real  leader ; 
and  it  is  interesting  to  know  that  Shakespeare 
is  said  to  have  found  the  germ  of  “ The  Tem- 
pest ” in  this  curious  little  book. 

It  is  but  a step  from  the  Public  Garden  to 
St.  Peter’s,  the  oldest  church  on  the  islands. 
In  the  walls  are  many  interesting  tablets,  and 
the  sexton  will  show  you  the  communion  ser- 
vice of  massive  silver,  presented  by  King  Wil- 
liam III.  in  1684,  and  a very  old  baptismal 


BERMUDA . 


91 


bowl,  the  gift  of  some  local  worthy  who  has 
long  been  dust  and  ashes.  One  of  the  quaint- 
est and  most  characteristic  tablets  is  in  mem- 
ory of  Governor  Popple.  It  is  as  follows  : — 

Died  at  Bermuda,  November  17th,  1744, 
in  the  46th  year  of  his  age, 

The  good  Governor 
Aluzed  Popple,  Esq. 

During  the  course  of  his  administration  which  to  the  in- 
consolable grief  of  the  inhabitants, 
continued  but  six  years, 

of  the  many  strangers  who  resorted  hither  for  their 
health, 

The  observant  easily  discovered  in  him, 

Under  the  graceful  veil  of  modesty, 

An  understanding  & abilities  equal 
To  a more  important  trust. 

The  Gay  6°  Polite  were  charmed  with  the  unaffected 
Elegance  and  amiable  simplicity  of  his  manners, 

And  all  were  chear’d 

By  his  hospitality  and  diffusive  benevolence  which 
steadily  flowed  and  undisturbed 
from  the  heart. 

To  praise  according  to  his  Merit 
The  Deceased 

would  be  but  too  sensible  a reproach 
To  the  living, 

and  to  enumerate  the  many  rare  virtues  which  shone 
united  on  the  Governor 
of  that  little  spot 

were  to  tell  how  many  great  talents 
and  Excellent  Endowments  are 
wanting  in  some 


92 


BERMUDA. 


Whom  the  capriciousness  of  Fortune 
exposes 

In  more  elevated  and  conspicuous  stations. 

Alas  for  poor  human  nature  ! Even  in  Par- 
adise it  cannot  raise  an  altar  to  its  own  espe- 
cial favorite,  without  casting  stones  at  other 
folk. 

To  American  eyes,  its  narrow  streets  and 
oddly  shaped  houses  give  St.  George’s  a charm 
that  is  quite  .distinctive.  York  Street  is  but 
ten  feet  wide,  and,  with  its  gardens  crowded 
with  semi-tropical  vegetation,  it  is  like  an  ori- 
ental picture. 


XII. 


After  our  early  dinner,  as  there  seemed  to 
be  ample  time  to  go  to  St.  David's,  the  only 
one  of  the  five  large  islands  that  is  not  con- 
nected with  the  others  by  a bridge,  we  hired  a 
lame  colored  man  to  “ row  us  o'er  the  ferry." 
St.  George’s  is  “ beautiful  for  situation  " as 
seen  from  the  water,  its  wooded  heights  rising 
tier  upon  tier,  crowned  with  forts  and  battle- 
ments, and  white  walls  gleaming  in  the  sun. 
Its  aspect  is  much  more  foreign  and  pictu- 
resque than  that  of  Hamilton,  strongly  remind- 
ing the  traveled  visitor  of  Malta.  Indeed,  so 
much  is  one  impressed  by  its  narrow  streets 
and  something  alien  in  its  atmosphere  that  he 
inevitably  listens  for  a foreign  tongue,  and  is 
surprised  at  hearing  plain  English. 

After  a long  pull  we  reached  a landing  not 
far  from  the  lighthouse,  whither  we  hastened. 
This  is  by  no  means  as  fine  an  affair  as  the  one 
at  Gibbs’s  Hill,  but  from  its  top  we  gained  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  clustered  islands  in  the 
harbor,  the  distant  “ mainland,"  the  wide,  far- 
sweeping  ocean,  and  the  white  waves  dashing 


BERMUDA. 


94 

themselves  into  spray  upon  the  hidden  reefs, 
that  are,  after  all  is  done,  the  strongest  de- 
fenses of  Bermuda. 

St.  David’s  has  comparatively  few  inhabit- 
ants ; and  of  these  few  it  is  said  there  are 
many  who  have  never  dared  the  perils  of  the 
deep,  and  ventured  to  cross  to  the  other  isl- 
ands. Talk  of  the  curiosity  of  women ! It  is 
actually  true  that  there  are  women,  born  on  St. 
David’s  island,  whose  desire  to  see  the  world 
and  the  ways  thereof  is  so  slight  that  they  have 
never  even  beheld  the  glories  of  St.  George  or 
Hamilton. 

It  was  said  a few  years  ago  that  many  of  the 
inhabitants  had  never  seen  a horse.  A fabu- 
lous story  is  afloat,  however,  to  the  effect  that 
now  there  are  two  horses  on  the  island  — one 
of  which  is  a donkey. 

Time  grew  short,  and  we  hurried  back  to  the 
landing,  where  we  found  that  our  lame  boat- 
man had  engaged  another  man  to  lend  a hand 
at  the  oars.  It  was  well ; for  as  we  steered 
to  westward,  skirting  the  narrows,  we  met  the 
strong  ocean  swell,  that  tossed  the  light  boat  as 
if  it  had  been  but  a soap-bubble.  The  tide  was 
ebbing,  and  we  would  have  surely  been  swept 
out  to  sea  if  the  two  oarsmen  had  not  pulled 
for  dear  life,  and  with  all  their  united  strength. 
He  who  knows  nothing  fears  nothing.  We 


BERMUDA. 


95 


laughed  at  the  idea  of  danger,  but  learned  af- 
terwards that  our  little  adventure  had  not  been 
without  a spicing  of  the  real,  true-blue  article. 

“Do  you  want  to  go  to  Joyce’s  caves?” 
asked  Nemo,  as  he  handed  me  into  the  car- 
riage. “ I don’t  know  when  we  shall  have  a 
better  chance.” 

“ There ’s  no  use  making  two  bites  of  a 
cherry,”  I answered.  “ Let  us  see  them,  by  all 
means.  How  many  are  there,  if  I may  ask  ? ” 

“ Two.” 

“One  will  answer  for  me,  thank  you.  You 
may  do  the  other  while  I lie  on  the  grass  and 
meditate.  But  where  is  the  Walsingham  cave, 
sacred  to  the  memory  of  Tom  Moore  ? Is  n’t 
that  somewhere  about  here  ? ” 

“ It ’s  on  the  other  side,  and  we  will  leave 
it  for  another  day.  Enough  is  as  good  as  a 
feast,  Lady  Mither.” 

We  leave  the  carriage,  and  pick  our  way  for 
some  distance  through  thickets  of  cedar  and 
oleander,  with  coffee-trees,  bamboos,  and  lem- 
ons interspersed,  till  we  reach  the  desired  ha- 
ven. It  proves  by  no  means  a haven  of  rest, 
however,  for  the  descent  into  the  caves  is 
rough  and  precipitous.  Yet  if  you  are  fond 
of  cavernous  depths,  it  pays.  Our  guide,  an 
intelligent  colored  man,  who  owns  the  place, 
lights  a bonfire  of  cedar  brush,  and  the  trans- 


BERMUDA. 


96 

formation  scene  begins.  The  dark,  damp,  and 
gloomy  cavern  stretches  away  through  magnif- 
icent distances,  and  through  openings  in  the 
walls  we  catch  glimpses  of  other  chambers,  of 
whose  splendors  we  are  content  to  dream. 
Far  above  us  soars  the  vaulted  roof,  hung  with 
stalactites,  and  glittering  as  with  the  light  of 
countless  jewels.  Below  us  lies  a lake,  clear 
and  cold,  whereon  fairies  might  launch  their 
airy  shallops. 

When  he  who  exhibited  these  wonders  found, 
much  to  his  astonishment,  that  I was  not  to  be 
cajoled  into  entering  the  second  cave,  which  — 
as  the  unseen  always  is  — was  far  more  mar- 
velous than  the  one  I had  seen,  he  beckoned 
to  a boy  who  was  leaning  on  his  hoe  in  a po- 
tato patch  hard  by,  and  bade  him  show  the 
lady  the  jessamines  and  the  shell-flowers. 

The  former  were  the  common  yellow  jessa- 
mines of  our  Southern  States.  The  shell-flower, 
or  shell-plant,  as  it  is  called  indiscriminately,  is 
very  curious  as  well  as  beautiful,  and  to  give 
an  adequate  description  of  it  in  words  is  not 
easy.  The  plant  itself  is  not  unlike  maize, 
or  indian  corn  ; and  the  long,  drooping  flower- 
cluster  which  takes  the  place  of  the  ear  is 
sheathed  like  that  in  a pale  green  husk.  This 
husk  opens  in  due  time,  revealing  row  upon 
row  of  delicate  flowers,  each  a marvel  of  loveli- 


BERMUDA. 


97 

ness.  They  are  often  two  inches  in  length,  and 
are  at  first  simply  closed  bells,  softly  tinted  in 
pink  and  white,  like  the  lining  of  a sea-shell. 
Hence  the  name.  But,  one  by  one,  they  un- 
fold, and  lo  ! your  bell  is  a monk’s-hood,  gor- 
geous in  gold  and  crimson.  Why  do  not  our 
florists  get  hold  of  it  ? 

On  the  way  home  we  stopped  for  a moment 
at  the  “ Devil’s  Hole.”  One  moment  was 
quite  enough.  No  rendezvous  for  gods  or 
fairies  this,  but  a natural  fish-pond,  through 
whose  rocky  basin,  set  in  a huge  cavernous 
chamber,  the  ocean  sends  its  tide  continually. 
The  fish,  strange  creatures  called  groupers, 
with  great  sluggish  bodies  and  horribly  human 
faces,  come  crowding  up  to  be  fed,  and  stare 
at  us  hungrily  with  their  awful  eyes. 

The  drive  home  was  charming  as  soft  airs, 
flower-scents,  and  the  sea-breeze  could  make  it. 
The  road  was  hard  and  smooth.  There  was 
neither  dust  nor  mud,  nor  noise  to  annoy  one. 
I leaned  back  luxuriously  among  the  cushions, 
wondering  for  the  thousandth  time  how  gerani- 
ums and  lantanas  managed,  not  only  to  grow, 
but  to  lavish  their  wealth  of  color  when  fast- 
ened to  the  bare  rocks  by  perhaps  a single 
root. 

“ I can’t  comprehend  it,”  I said.  “ It  is 
natural  enough  for  the  cacti  to  live  without  any 
7 


BERMUDA. 


98 

visible  means  of  support,  but  I always  supposed 
the  geranium  needed  bread  and  butter.  Do 
look  at  those  gate-posts  ! Driver,  stop  a mo- 
ment, please.” 

We  were  passing  a pretty  white  cottage,  in 
front  of  which  was  a low,  curving  wall.  The 
stone  pillars  I had  irreverently  styled  gate-posts 
were  square  and  high,  and  each  was  crowned 
with  a large  Turk’s-head  cactus,  in  full  growth 
and  vigor. 

“ Well,  that  ’s  a new  idea,”  said  I.  “ Do  you 
suppose  there  is  a hole  in  the  post,  in  which 
the  pot  is  sunken  ? Nemo,  what  if  you  were 
to  get  out  and  see  ? ” 

“ No  need  of  that,  lady,”  said  the  driver, 
showing  his  white  teeth.  “ There  is  n’t  any  pot. 
Turk’s-heads,  they  just  grow  on  the  stone.” 

“ Do  you  mean  to  say,”  I remarked,  severely, 
“ that  those  things  just  sit  perched  up  there  on 
top  of  those  posts,  and  grow , without  any  earth 
whatever,  the  whole  year  round  ? ” 

“ That ’s  it,  lady.  They  just  set  there.  That ’s 
all,”  and  he  drove  on. 

“ What  are  you  smiling  at,  Lady  Mither  ? ” 
asked  Nemo,  a moment  after. 

“ To  think  of  all  the  sentiment  I wasted  on 
the  hewing  out  of  these  roads,  when  we  first 
came,”  I answered.  “ But  I suppose  it  was 
quite  reasonable  for  us  to  think  them  the  prod- 


BERMUDA. 


99 


uct  of  convict  labor,  cemented  by  blood  and 
tears.  It  seemed  to  me  that  haggard  figures, 
with  bowed  heads  and  hopeless  eyes,  lurked  in 
every  shadow  thrown  by  these  massive  walls : 
hardened  wretches,  no  doubt,  for  the  most 
part,  yet  with  now  and  then  an  innocent  man 
among  them.  Think  what  his  life  must  have 
been ! ” 

“ But  you  need  not  think  about  it,  now  that 
you  know  the  convicts  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  the  roads,”  said  Nemo.  “ So  don’t 
worry  your  blessed  heart  over  might  - have- 
beens.” 

“ It  would  be  interesting,  though,  if  one  had 
time,  to  look  into  the  details  of  convict  life. 
There  were  nine  thousand  brought  here,  first 
and  last,  and  two  thousand  of  them  died.  Boaz 
looks  like  a very  paradise,  to-day;  but  what 
sighs,  and  groans,  and  lamentations  for  home 
and  kindred,  must  have  gone  up  from  its  green 
shores ! ” 

“ Now,  Lady  Mither,  let  the  convicts  be,” 
expostulated  Nemo,  “ and  console  yourself  with 
those  flaming  pomegranates.  Bermuda  is  a 
pretty  good  place  to  be  exiled  to  ; and  the 
chances  are  that  most  of  the  poor  fellows  were 
as  well  off  here  as  they  had  ever  been  else- 
where. Besides,  you  forget  what  rascals  they 
undoubtedly  were,  most  of  them.” 


IOO 


BERMUDA . 


“ Do  you  suppose  that  made  it  any  easier,  — 
to  know  it  was  all  their  own  fault  ? I don’t ! 
But  I am  glad  they  are  not  here  now,  just  or 
unjust.  I wonder  what  these  straight,  narrow 
cross-roads,  running  for  the  most  part  east  and 
west,  are  ? They  are  hardly  wider  than  a coun- 
try lane,  or  footpath.  There ’s  one,  now.” 

“ That ’s  a 4 tribe  road,’  lady,”  said  the 
driver. 

44  And  what  may  that  be? ” 

He  shook  his  head.  44 1 always  heard  them 
called  so,”  he  said.  44 1 don’t  just  know  the 
reason.  There  used  to  be  4 tribes  ’ here.” 

44  Districts,  or  divisions,  something  after  the 
nature  of  parishes,  I fancy,”  explained  Nemo, 
44  into  which,  as  I have  heard,  the  mainland  was 
divided  when  the  island  was  first  surveyed. 
Perhaps  these  4 tribe  roads  ’ were  boundary 
lines.  But  we  are  almost  home.  Shall  we 
drive  round  the  harbor  and  say  good-night  to 
your  palm-trees  ? ” 

How  quickly  we  learn  to  claim  as  our  own 
that  in  which  we  delight ! 

There  are  no  more  striking  objects  in  all 
Bermuda  than  the  group  of  five  Royal  Palms, 
brought  from  Grenada  fifty  years  ago.  One 
needs  to  stand  directly  beneath  them,  and  to 
let  the  eye  follow  the  straight,  columnar  shafts 
as  they  shoot  upward  into  the  clear  ether,  and 


BERMUDA. 


IOI 


lay  their  fronded  heads  against  the  tender  blue 
of  the  sky,  before  he  can  fully  take  in  all  their 
grandeur.  There  is  another  fine  palm,  of  the 
same  royal  race,  at  Woodlands. 

For  variety  that  evening  we  were  shown  a 
huge  specimen  of  the  cuttle-fish,  captured  that 
day  by  a Boston  clergyman,  who,  it  was  quite 
evident,  had  by  no  means  renounced  the  devil 
and  all  his  works.  One  glimpse  of  the  creature, 
horribly  repulsive  as  it  was,  was  enough  to  in- 
sure the  nightmare. 


XIII. 


All  the  Arabian  Nights’  tales  ever  told  had 
paled  before  Nemo’s  story  of  the  fairy  gardens 
of  the  underworld  at  Chubb’s  Cut.  How,  then, 
could  I hope  for  peace  of  mind  until  I had  at 
least  beheld  the  glories  of  the  inner  reefs  ? 

For,  after  all,  the  chief  attraction  of  Bermuda 
is  in  her  iridescent  waters  and  what  lies  beneath 
them.  At  nine  of  the  clock,  one  morning,  Wil- 
liams, a bronze  Hercules,  low  voiced,  gentle 
mannered,  a trusty  boatman,  and  an  enthusiast 
in  his  calling,  meets  us  at  the  dock,  with  his 
water-glasses,  nippers,  and  all  else  needed  for 
a successful  trip  to  the  reefs.  But  our  first 
objective  point  is  Ireland  Island ; and  to  gain 
time  we  embark  on  the  Moondyne,  — a pleasant 
party  of  five,  with  lunch  baskets  and  the  ever- 
present waterproofs  and  umbrellas.  Towing 
our  row-boat,  away  we  glide  down  the  beautiful 
sunlit  bay,  winding  our  way  in  and  out  among 
the  fairy  islands  of  the  Great  Sound,  after  a 
fashion  strikingly  like  the  passage  through  the 
Thousand  Islands  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Passing 
the  lovely  shores  of  Somerset  and  Boaz,  which 


BERMUDA. 


103 


last  was  formerly  the  convict  station,  we  get 
good  views  of  the  naval  and  military  hospitals, 
with  their  broad  balconies  and  shaded  grounds. 
At  Ireland  Island  is  her  majesty’s  dockyard, 
with  forts  and  batteries,  all  alive  with  soldiers, 
marines,  and  busy  workmen.  Several  men-of- 
war,  with  a multitude  of  smaller  craft,  are  at 
anchor  in  Grassy  Bay,  and  the  admiral’s  ship, 
the  Northampton,  is  lying  in  the  great  floating 
dock,  Bermuda,  for  repairs.  This  enormous 
structure,  said  to  be  the  largest  of  its  kind  in 
the  world,  was  towed  over  from  England  in 
1868.  To  naval,  military,  and  business  men 
this  is  a most  attractive  spot,  but  so  much  red 
tape  must  be  untied  before  one  can  enter  the 
dockyard  that  we  content  ourselves  with  an 
outside  view,  and  walk  across  the  island  to  the 
cemetery.  Here,  within  sound  of  the  moaning 
sea  and  the  fierce  guns  of  the  forts,  all  is  as 
peaceful  and  serene  as  in  any  country  grave- 
yard in  New  England.  Trees  wave,  flowers 
bloom,  bright-winged  birds  flit  from  palm  to 
cedar,  and  great  masses  of  the  scarlet  heath 
burn  in  the  soft,  cool  light. 

But  we  are  most  impressed  by  the  records  of 
sudden  and  violent  deaths ; for  here  we  find 
inscriptions  instead  of  the  conventional  num- 
ber. “ Killed  by  a fall  from  the  masthead  of 
H.  M.  ship  Daylight.”  “ Drowned  off  Spanish 


BERMUDA. 


104 

Rock.”  “ Died  suddenly,  a victim  to  yellow 

fever.”  “ Erected  by  his  messmates  to  the 

memory  of , who  died  at  sea.”  So  the  in- 

scriptions ran.  Many  of  the  epitaphs  were  cu- 
rious, but  all  were  to  me  indescribably  pathetic. 
Here  are  two  or  three  of  them  : — 

“ God’s  finger  touched  him,  and  he  slept.” 

The  following  I found  on  an  old  stone,  gram- 
mar and  all  : — 

“ Its  age  nor  youth,  nor  wealth  cannot  withstand 
Or  shun  the  power  of  Death’s  impartial  hand. 

Life  is  a cobweb,  be  it  ere  so  gay, 

And  Death  the  broom  that  sweeps  us  all  away.” 


“ Sacred  to  the  Memory  of 
Samuel  Gillam, 

Late  Boatswain’s  mate  of  the  Ship  Belvedere,  who  was 
accidentally  killed  by  the  sheave  of  the  foremast,  on  the 
17th  June,  1836,  leaving  a widow  and  four  children  to 
lament  their  loss. 

Tho’  Boreas’  blasts  and  Neptune’s  waves. 

Have  tossed  me  to  and  fro, 

Yet  I at  last,  by  God’s  decree, 

Do  harbor  here  below, 

Where  at  an  anchor  I do  ride 
With  many  of  our  fleet ; 

Once  more  again  I must  set  sail 
My  Saviour,  Christ,  to  meet.” 

Some  civilians  are  buried  here,  and  many 
little  children  3 and  I came  upon  a pathetic 


BERMUDA. 


105 


memorial  to  a fair  young  English  wife,  who  fol- 
lowed her  soldier  husband  hither  "only  to  give 
birth  to  a little  child  and  die  on  these  far-off 
shores.  But  for  the  most  part  the  sleepers  in 
this  beautiful  God’s  acre  are  strong  and  stal- 
wart men,  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  their  days. 

We  lunch  in  the  delicious  shade,  with  the 
sea  at  our  feet  and  a bright-eyed,  swift-footed 
little  mulatto  boy  for  our  Ganymede.  Then 
we  row  along  the  coast  and  through  the  nar- 
rows to  the  dockyard  harbor,  bound  for  the 
reefs. 

As  we  round  the  point  there  is  a sudden 
gathering  of  the  clans  and  the  swell  of  mar- 
tial music.  Hundreds  of  soldiers  swarm  upon 
the  piers  and  sailors  cling  to  every  masthead. 
Apparently  something  exciting  is  going  on. 
The  band  strikes  up  “ Home,  Sweet  Home,” 
and  the  good  ship  Humber  steams  out,  with 
all  sails  set,  bound  for  England,  and  crowded 
from  stem  to  stern.  She  takes  home  a regi- 
ment whose  term  of  ' service  has  expired.  A 
storm  of  cheers  bursts  from  the  comrades  they 
are  leaving  behind,  answered  by  shouts  and 
hurrahs  from  the  happy  fellows  on  board. 
They  scramble  up  the  tall  masts,  and  far  out 
on  the  yardarms  ; they  cling  to  the  shrouds, 
waving  their  caps  and  shouting  themselves 
hoarse,  as  the  band  plays  “ The  Girl  I left  Be- 


io  6 


BERMUDA . 


hind  Me.”  One  agile  fellow  stands  on  the  very 
top  of  the  tallest  mast,  his  figure  in  bold  re- 
lief against  die  blue  of  the  sky.  As  the  ship 
passes  the  near  buoys  “ Auld  Lang  Syne  ” 
floats  plaintively  over  the  deep,  and  the  men 
on  the  dock  turn  soberly,  perhaps  sadly,  to  the 
monotonous  routine  of  duties. 

Williams  picks  up  his  oars,  and  we  are  soon 
far  out  among  the  reefs.  It  is  so  still  and  clear 
that  a water-glass  is  scarcely  needed.  With- 
out its  aid  we  can  look  far  down,  down,  into 
the  azure  and  amber  depths,  so  translucent,  so 
pure,  that  the  minutest  object  is  distinctly  vis- 
ible. What  marvelous  growths,  what  wonder- 
ful creations  ! Is  this  a submerged  flower- 
garden  ? Great  sea- fans  wave  their  purple 
branches,  swaying  to  the  swell  as  pine-boughs 
sway  to  the  breeze.  Magnificent  sprays  of 
star-coral  — some  as  fine  and  delicate  as  lace- 
work,  and  so  frail  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  remove  them  from  their  bed,  and  some  like 
the  strong  antlers  of  some  forest  monarch  — 
grow  upon  the  sides  of  the  deep  sea  moun- 
tains. Here  the  shelf-coral  hangs  from  the 
rocks  like  an  inverted  mushroom,  delicately 
wrought,  and  the  rose-coral  unfolds  like  a fairy 
flower.  There  lie  great  brainstones,  another 
variety  of  coral,  with  their  singular  convolu- 
tions, side  by  side  with  finger-sponges,  tall, 


BERMUDA. 


10  7 


brown,  branching  sea-rods,  sea-cucumbers,  and 
many  another  wonder.  There  are  star-fish, 
sea  - urchins,  and  sea  - anemones,  — gorgeous 
creatures  in  ashes  of  rose  and  orange,  or  in 
pink  and  brown  with  dashes  of  yellow,  and  a 
flutter  of  white  ruffles  that  unfold  as  you  gaze, 
like  the  opening  of  a flower-bud.  And  in  and 
around  and  about  them  all  glide  the  blue  an- 
gel fish,  with  their  fins  just  tipped  with  gold, 
yellow  canary  fish,  the  zebra-striped  sergeant 
majors,  and  a ruby-colored  fish  that  gleams  in 
the  water  like  a ray  of  light. 

We  gather  fans  and  corals ; we  exhaust  our 
vocabularies  in  expressions  of  delight  ; and 
then  in  the  soft  glow  of  sunset,  while  the  shores 
are  bathed  in  rosy  mist,  and  each  little  island 
is  an  emerald  or  an  amethyst  set  in  silver,  and 
the  far  lighthouse  towers  above  them  all  like  a 
watchful  sentinel,  we  half  row,  half  float,  home- 
ward with  the  tide,  silent,  tired,  but  happy. 

Yet  two  of  the  party  said,  “ Yes,  this  was  all 
very  fine.  But  if  you  could  only  see  the  reefs 
at  Chubb’s  Cut ! ” 


XIV. 


It  rained  that  night,  and  in  the  morning 
there  was  a chill  north  wind,  putting  a damper 
upon  a pleasant  plan  of  ours.  We  had  meant 
to  take  a long,  delightful  ten-mile  drive  to 
Sandys  — most  of  the  way  by  the  blue,  blue 
sea  — and  attend  church  there.  For  it  was 
Sunday  again.  But  as  it  was,  we  chose  to  sit 
with  closed  door  and  windows  and  read  Emer- 
son instead.  Every  five  minutes,  however,  one 
or  the  other  of  us  stepped  out  on  the  balcony 
to  see  if  the  pennant  flying  at  Mount  Langton 
bore  witness  that  the  mail  steamer  was  sig- 
naled. 

Flags  talk  in  Bermuda  after  a most  bewilder- 
ing fashion.  They  give  you  all  kinds  of  infor- 
mation if  you  are  only  quick-witted  enough  to 
take  it  in  : when  it  is  church  time,  and  when 
it  is  noon  ; when  an  unknown  ship  is  in  sight ; 
when  the  mails  will  close ; when  they  go  out, 
and  when  they  come  in ; when  a boat  is  wanted 
at  Mount  Langton ; when  there  is  a vessel  on 
the  rocks ; when  the  Pioneer  will  call  at  the 
“ Ducking  Stool, ” — whatever  that  maybe, — 


BERMUDA . 109 

and  when  it  will  not  call.  There  is  no  end  to 
the  signals  ; but  it  would  take  a lifetime  and 
the  patience  of  Job  to  master  their  language. 

In  the  afternoon  the  sun  came  out ; earth, 
air,  sea,  and  sky  wooed  us  as  entrancingly  as 
ever,  and  Bermuda  was  her  fair,  sweet  self 
again.  Out-of-doors  was  far  better  than  in- 
doors, and  we  started  out  for  a purposeless 
stroll,  not  caring  whither  we  went.  Not  far 
from  our  lodgings,  a path  led  into  a pretty, 
secluded  grove.  What  better  time  to  explore 
it  ? 

It  developed  erelong  into  something  very 
like  a smooth  wood-road  in  Vermont.  The 
air  was  sweet  with  the  faint  odor  of  the  ferns 
and  the  aromatic  breath  of  the  cedars.  Not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard  but  the  low  warbling  of 
a bird. 

“ Are  we  really  in  Bermuda  ? ” asked  Nemo. 
“ I half  believe  we  are  at  home,  taking  a stroll 
up  beyond  the  Quarter-line.  We  shall  come, 
pretty  soon,  to  the  old  oak  with  the  hole  in  it, 
where  Fred  hid  my  cane  last  summer.” 

But  we  did  not,  though  we  passed  several 
unproductive  “ quarries,”  that  were  familiar  in 
name  if  not  in  appearance.  Instead  of  the  oak 
we  found  a grove  of  palm-trees  and  a wild 
growth  of  orange  and  lemon  trees,  and  instead 
of  the  shy  arbutus  the  drooping  bells  of  the 


no 


BERMUDA. 


life-plant.  The  golden-rod  was  there,  lifting 
its  yellow  plumes  in  the  April  sunshine.  How 
out  of  place  it  looked  ! We  longed  for  tender 
blue  violets  instead,  or  fair,  spring-like  hepat- 
icas.  It  made  us  wonder  if  one  would  not  tire 
after  a while  of  perpetual  summer-time,  — even 
of  roses  and  lilies  and  soft  sunlic  skies,  charm- 
ing as  they  all  were  in  contrast  with  the  long 
winter  from  which  we  had  fled.  Beautiful  Ber- 
muda can  never  know  what  spring  is,  — the  joy 
of  the  awakening  earth,  the  miracle  of  the  new 
creation.  She  has  much  that  we  have  not;  but 
she  can  never  have  the  green  splendor  of  wide- 
spreading  elms,  or  oaks,  or  maples,  the  glory 
of  autumnal  foliage,  or  the  white  wonder  of  the 
snow. 

At  last,  as  we  strolled  on,  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  sea,  and  came  out  into  the  road 
near  Mr.  Trott’s  garden,  famous  for  its  lilies. 
There  were  thousands  of  the  great  white  chal- 
ices, each  upheld  by  its  slender  shaft  of  emer- 
ald, and  “ filled  to  faintness  with  perfume.” 

While  Nemo  went  on  down  to  the  shore,  to 
reconnoitre,  I stopped  to  speak  to  a colored 
woman,  who  led  by  the  hand  a wee  atom  of  a 
girl,  the  tiniest  creature  that  ever  walked  on 
two  feet.  She  was  like  a little  bronze  statuette ; 
only  bronzes  do  not  break  into  soft,  dimpling 
laughter  when  they  are  spoken  to,  nor  mantle 


BERMUDA. 


Ill 


with  pink  flushes  under  their  golden  browns. 
As  I stooped  to  bring  my  tall  self  a little  nearer 
to  her  level,  she  smoothed  down  her  white 
dress,  gave  me  her  mite  of  a hand,  smiling  in 
the  friendliest  fashion,  and  informed  me  that 
her  name  was  Lily.  This  sixteen  months  old 
baby  could  hardly  be  expected  to  have  any  be- 
havior, good  or  bad ; but  it  is  true  that  as  a 
rule  the  colored  children  are  exceptionally  well 
behaved,  and  many  of  them  are  very  pretty. 

Nemo  reported  nothing  of  special  interest 
farther  on.  So,  turning  back,  we  struck  a path 
that  apparently  led  to  our  beloved  Serpentine, 
and  concluded  to  venture  it.  Straiter  and 
steeper  grew  the  way,  till  it  culminated  in  two 
or  three  flights  of  stone  steps,  up  which  we 
clambered  wearily,  to  find  ourselves  in  a wide 
expanse  of  pasture  land,  and  no  road  in  sight. 

When,  after  devious  wanderings,  we  struck 
the  Serpentine,  it  was  at  a point  a mile  from 
home. 

Tired  ? Well  — rather  ! 

“But,  for  a woman  who  couldn’t  walk  when 
she  came  to  Bermuda,  it  seems  to  me  you  are 
doing  pretty  well,  Lady  Mither,”  said  Nemo ; 
and  I agreed  with  him,  even  if  it  was  true  that 
on  the  morrow  the  spirit  did  not  move  me  to 
herculean  tasks. 

And  so  the  weeks  went  on.  “Bermuda  is 


1 12 


BERMUDA. 


dull,  Bermuda  is  slow,”  said  some  one,  now 
and  then.  “ It  is  so  quiet  here,  and  there  is 
nothing  going  on.” 

“ There  is  not  even  anything  to  dress  for,” 
was  sometimes  said ; and  it  must  be  confessed 
this  was  a trial  to  Miss  Flora  MacFlimsey,  who 
remarked  dolefully  that  she  had  such  lovely 
white  dresses,  all  puffs  and  laces  and  embroid- 
eries, in  her  trunk,  and  it  was  not  warm  enough 
to  wear  them,  whereas  at  Nassau,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

But  the  days  flew  too  fast  for  most  of  us. 
Whether  we  walked,  or  rode,  or  sailed,  or  sim- 
ply sat  in  sun  or  shade  and  vegetated,  there 
was  nothing  to  regret  save  that  the  day  was 
drawing  near  when  we  must  strike  our  tents 
and  steal  away. 

One  morning  Nemo  and  the  Colonel  pro- 
posed a trip  that  was  quite  beyond  my  powers. 
“ Run  away,”  I said,  “and  make  a long  day  of 
it,  and  a hard  one  if  you  please.  But  the  little 
brunette  and  I are  going  to  Camp  Warwick 
this  afternoon.” 

We  started  after  lunch. 

“ We  shall  strike  the  military  road  after  a 
little,”  said  the  brunette. 

This  sounded  well ; and  as  it  was  probable 
that  military  roads  were  far  superior  to  civil 
roads,  I waited  the  event  with  much  interest, 
only  to  find  myself  on  the  very  worst  road  I 


BERMUDA . 


113 

had  yet  traversed  in  Bermuda.  Our  objective 
point  was  the  beach  opposite  Camp  Warwick, 
— a beach  with  high,  overhanging  cliffs  jutting 
out  into  the  sea. 

When  we  left  the  carriage,  to  go  down  to  the 
shore,  gleams  of  scarlet  and  the  flash  of  bay- 
onets led  our  eyes  to  a rock  on  which  were 
clustered  a dozen  red-coats  and  as  many  mu- 
sicians, their  brass  instruments  glittering  in  the 
sun. 

“ Something  is  going  on,”  said  my  compan- 
ion. “ They  are  getting  ready  to  fire.  Do  you 
dare  venture  down  ? ” 

But  just  then  a young  lieutenant  approached, 
with  grave  salute,  and,  telling  us  that  target 
practice  was  about  to  begin,  begged  permission 
to  place  us  where  we  could  see  the  firing  and 
yet  be  out  of  harm’s  way. 

It  is  needless  to  say  we  stayed  not  on  the 
order  of  our  going,  but  followed  him  with  all 
speed. 

“ There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,”  I 
said,  after  he  left  us  to  rejoin  his  men.  “ But 
this  is  really  a novel  situation  for  two  New 
England  women.  Here  we  are  on  this  dot  of 
an  island  in  mid-ocean,  perched  on  a coral 
cliff,  and  watching  the  soldiers  of  Old  England 
as  they  learn  to  fight  her  battles.” 

“Ping!  ping!  ping!”  went  the  rifles;  and 
8 


BERMUDA. 


1 14 

“ Boom ! boom  ! boom  ! ” answered  the  waves, 
as  they  beat  upon  the  rocks  below  us. 

We  climbed  down  to  the  beach  after  we  had 
watched  the  soldiers  long  enough,  — a beauti- 
ful white  beach,  composed  entirely  of  shells  and 
coral  ground  fine  by  the  action  of  the  waves. 
I filled  my  handkerchief  with  the  de'bris,  which 
had  not  the  slightest  intermixture  of  sand  or 
soil ; but  not  one  unbroken  shell  could  we  find. 

Nemo  and  the  Colonel  returned  to  a late 
dinner,  with  reports  of  a delightful  day  under 
Pilot  Scott’s  guidance.  He  had  taken  them 
round  Somerset,  through  Sandys  Narrows  into 
the  Great  Sound,  and  from  thence  to  Boaz  in 
time  to  catch  the  Moondyne  on  her  return 
trip.  This  course  led  them  to  Daniel’s  Head, 
where  they  found  a ruined  fortification  of 
two  hundred  years  ago  ; and  to  Elie’s  Harbor, 
where  they  landed  at  Whale  Island,  and  ate 
their  lunch  in  the  lee  of  the  ruined  ovens,  or 
boilers,  which  were  formerly  used  for  trying 
out  blubber. 

“ Did  you  go  to  Basset’s  cave  ? ” 

“ Certainly,”  said  the  Colonel.  “ What  pair 
of  adventurous  spirits  could  go  out  for  a day  in 
Bermuda  without  entering  the  bowels  of  the 
earth  on  one  pretext  or  another  ? But  for 
which  reasons  I have  been  unable  to  discover, 
few  people  visit  Basset’s  cave,  although  it  is 


BERMUDA . 1 15 

quite  as  picturesque  and  beautiful  as  the  Wal- 
singham,  which  everybody  goes  to  see.” 

“ You  may  as  well  tell  us  about  it,”  said  I, 
“ for  I ’m  not  going  there, — neither  is  Saint 
Catherine.  We  are  not  over-fond  of  under- 
ground passages.” 

“ Then  why  should  you  hear  about  them  ? 
But  Pilot  Scott  rowed  us  to  the  shore,  and,  led 
by  a little  negro  boy,  we  came  to  a rocky  open- 
ing in  the  side  of  a low  hill.  Lighting  candles, 
we  crept  slowly  in,  clambered  down  steep  path- 
ways which  were  damp  and  slippery,  and  soon 
came  to  a little  underground  lake.  Here  we 
set  fire  to  a pile  of  cedar  boughs  which  our 
small  guide  had  gathered,  and  the  bright  flames 
lit  up  the  water  and  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
cave.  Stalactites  hanging  from  the  ceiling  and 
stalagmites  rising  from  the  floor  glistened  in 
the  unusual  light,  and  the  clear  emerald  water 
of  the  little  lake  — salt  sea-water  which  falls 
and  rises  with  the  tide  — seemed  to  be  a great 
jewel  in  a setting  of  coral.  It  was  too  slippery 
to  venture  further,  and  when  the  boughs  had 
all  been  burned  we  climbed  out  into  the  sun- 
shine again.  That  was  all  there  was  of  it. 
Nothing  very  dreadful,  you  perceive ; but  we 
did  not  see  so  much  as  the  ghost  of  a water 
nymph  or  a peri.” 

“ I don’t  know  a great  deal  about  caves,”  re- 


ii  6 


BERMUDA. 


marked  one  of  the  ladies,  “ and  I haven’t  been 
into  one  of  them.  But  I would  like  to  ask  if 
it  is  impossible  to  have  a cave  without  a lake  ? 
That  same  ‘ little  lake  ’ that  the  Colonel  speaks 
of  has  figured  in  every  cavern  I have  heard  of 
yet.  Hear  this,  will  you  ! ” and  with  a laugh- 
ing glance  at  a gentleman  who  was  absorbed 
in  a game  of  whist  at  a table  opposite,  she 
drew  a letter  from  her  pocket.  “ I did  n’t 
write  it,  but  it  is  a description  of  the  Walsing- 
ham  cave,  and  it  goes  to  New  York  by  the 
Oronoco  next  Thursday.  Now  see  if  they 
are  not  as  much  alike  as  two  peas.  No, 
George,  go  on  with  your  whist,”  she  added, 
shaking  her  head  at  the  gentleman,  who  half 
rose  from  his  chair.  “ I can  manage  this  busi- 
ness myself.  I ’ll  skip  the  preliminaries.”  And 
she  read,  — 

“ The  Walsingham  caves,  which  I men- 
tioned above,  lie  near  the  quaint  white  town 
of  St.  George’s,  and  are  entered  from  the 
side  of  a little  hill.  The  rude  stairs,  hollowed 
out  of  the  coral  rock,  wind  about  in  many  di- 
rections, and  the  entrance  is  very  narrow. 
When  the  visitor  has  descended  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet,  however,  he  finds  himself  in  a 
room  of  peculiar  beauty.  The  walls  are  hung 
with  stalactites,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  cham- 
ber is  a lake  of  emerald  water,  which  sparkles 


BERMUDA. 


II 7 

in  the  light  of  blazing  cedar  boughs,  while  the 
drops  which  fall  from  the  ragged  ceiling  tinkle 
musically  upon  the  rocks  and  water  below.  A 
cool,  delicious  air  fills  the  cave,  and  the  silence 
of  the  place  is  so  intense  that  the  quiet  groves 
seem  filled  with  humming  noises  when  one 
climbs  to  the  face  of  the  earth  again  ; and  the 
sunshine  is  marvelously  bright,  even  in  the 
shade  of  the  ancient  calabash  which  guards  the 
forbidding  entrance.” 

“There  it  is,  you  see,”  she  went  on,  laugh- 
ingly, as  she  refolded  the  letter  and  slipped  it 
into  its  envelope  : “ little  hill,  little  lake,  emer- 
ald water,  cedar  boughs,  and  all.  They  ’re  all 
alike,  and  why  you  gentlemen  find  them  so  in- 
teresting that  you  must  needs  creep  — no, 
crawl  — into  every  one  of  them  passes  my 
comprehension.  I ’d  rather  have  one  square 
yard  of  her  blue  sky  than  all  the  subterranean 
depths  in  Bermuda.” 

“ Which  is  conclusive,”  retorted  the  cour- 
teous Colonel,  bowing  serenely ; “ especially 
when  you  acknowledge  that  you  have  not  seen 
one  of  these  same  depths.  I maintain  that  the 
descriptions  are  not  alike,  inasmuch  as  I said 
nothing  whatever  about  ‘ delicious  air,’  ‘ in- 
tense silence/  ‘tinkling  drops/  nor  ‘ancient 
calabashes.’  They  were  not  to  be  found  in  my 
cave  — unless  it  may  have  been  the  silence.” 


XV. 


It  would  be  impossible  to  tell  of  all  the 
pleasant  excursions  that  gave  light  and  color 
to  our  Bermudian  days.  One  morning  we 
drove  to  Tucker’s  Town,  — about  seven  miles, 
— and  there  hired  a whale-boat  and  three  stout 
oarsmen  for  the  day,  that  we  might  explore 
Castle  Harbor  and  its  surroundings.  With  a 
single  square  - sail  set,  we  bounded  over  the 
light  waves  toward  Castle  Island,  but  after 
beating  about  for  a little  while  made  a landing 
at  the  extreme  point  of  the  mainland,  that  the 
gentlemen  might  visit  a cave  called  the  Queen’s 
White  Hall.  The  Point  is  uninhabited,  and 
never  a sound  could  be  heard  except  the  husky 
murmur  of  the  slow  waves  as  they  breasted  the 
rocks  or  rolled  in  upon  the  seaward  beach. 

The  ladies,  meanwhile,  climbed  the  high 
cliffs,  to  watch  the  breakers  afar  off  and  wait 
for  their  escorts.  Suddenly  there  was  a rush, 
a whirr  of  wings,  laughter,  and  a call  to  us,  — 
and  down  we  went. 

The  lighting  of  a bit  of  magnesium  wire 
had  disclosed  a boatswain  bird  on  its  nest. 


BERMUDA. 


HQ 

Blinded  by  the  sudden  glare,  it  had  given  one 
fearful  cry  ere  it  was  caught  and  brought  out 
for  our  inspection.  The  boatswain  is  a beauti- 
ful white  creature,  of  the  gull  family,  with  two 
long  feathers  in  its  tail,  by  means  of  which  it 
is  popularly  supposed  to  steer  its  flight ; hence 
the  name.  When  we  let  it  go,  it  flew  far  out  to 
sea.  But  we  were  scarcely  in  the  boat  again 
when  we  saw  it  circling  and  wheeling  far  above 
our  heads,  only  waiting  till  we  strange  intrud- 
ers should  be  gone  before  returning  to  its  nest. 

“ Now  you  are  down  here,  ladies,”  said  the 
Colonel,  “you  ought  surely  to  enter  Her  Maj- 
esty’s White  Hall.  You’ll  never  have  another 
chance ; and  this  is  really  a cavern  without  a 
lake.” 

How  we  crept  in  through  the  narrow  en- 
trance I shall  never  try  to  tell.  But  the  pas- 
sage grew  wider  as  we  followed  the  winding 
way,  and  when  our  eyes  became  accustomed  to 
the  darkness  we  could  see  that  the  floor  was 
hard  white  sand,  and  that  small  stalactites  hung 
from  the  narrow  roof  above  us.  It  is  not  a 
large  cave,  but  is  weird  and  strange.  Though 
we  were  less  than  fifty  feet  from  the  door  the 
waves  were  no  longer  heard.  How  still  it  was  ! 
— so  still  that  our  footfalls  on  the  smooth  sand 
seemed  loud  and  harsh. 

Having  set  sail  again,  we  made  for  Castle 


120 


BERMUDA. 


Island.  Steep  stairs  cut  in  the  rocks  led  us  to 
a broad  plateau  bordered  by  ruined  fortifica- 
tions, massive  structures  which  were  built  early 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  when  the  Spanish 
buccaneers  made  constant  raids  upon  Ber- 
muda. In  fact,  the  pirates  once  held  Castle 
Island,  and  we  walked  over  the  paths  their 
feet  had  worn  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago. 
Afterwards  the  castle  was  for  a time  the  seat  of 
government.  The  massive  walls  of  fort  and 
castle,  full  ten  feet  thick,  seem  as  if  they  might 
stand  forever. 

Climbing  up  into  one  of  the  deep  embrasures, 
with  the  lonely  sea  before  me  and  the  silent 
court  behind,  I tried  to  imagine  the  scene  as  it 
was  when  gay  with  red-coats  and  gold-laced  offi- 
cers, with  their  powdered  wigs,  their  queues, 
their  queer  cocked  hats,  and  all  the  pomp  and 
pageantry  of  glorious  war.  Far  down  on  the 
beach  below  me  lay  a rusty  cannon,  half  buried 
in  the  sand.  Doubtless  from  the  very  spot 
where  I stood  it  had  belched  forth  its  thunders 
at  the  approaching  pirate  fleets. 

We  lunched  in  the  gray  old  court,  sitting  on 
a low  stone  seat  whereon,  it  was  easy  to  be- 
lieve, many  a brave  soldier  and  many  a fair 
lady  had  whispered  sweet  secrets,  long  ago. 
Names  were  carved  in  the  rocks  and  on  the 
walls,  the  numbers  of  many  regiments — some 


BERMUDA. 


121 


famous  in  English  annals  — appearing  over 
and  over  again.  The  remains  of  the  old  ovens 
were  still  there,  and  chimneys  blackened  by 
the  smoke  of  fires  so  long  gone  out. 

In  the  old  Government  House  there  is  a 
hall,  floorless  and  windowless  now,  where  many 
a Bermuda  girl  danced  and  was  made  love  to 
by  the  gay  gallants  of  other  days.  For  Ber- 
muda has  always  been  gay,  — gayer,  they  say, 
in  the  past  than  it  is  now.  So  long  ago  as 
when  our  Puritan  fathers  were  struggling  with 
cold,  with  savages,  and  with  all  the  hardships 
and  privations  of  early  New  England  life,  Ber- 
muda was  sitting  in  the  sun  and  smiling  as  se- 
renely as  to-day.  The  traditions  there  are  not 
of  spinning  and  weaving,  of  hard-won  comforts, 
of  serious  endeavor,  of  Indian  fights  and  cruel 
massacres,  but  of  gay  fetes  and  brilliant  mas- 
querades, of  happy  competence  and  careless 
ease.  The  old  ladies  of  to-day  show  you  the 
fine  dresses,  the  laces  and  ornaments,  that 
their  great-grandmothers  wore  when  they,  the 
great-grandmothers,  were  young. 

Setting  sail  again,  we  swept  through  the 
great  harbor,  passing  Nonsuch  and  Cooper 
islands  and  rounding  St.  David’s  Head,  a mag- 
nificent promontory,  against  which  the  sea 
beat  itself  to  foam.  The  wind  was  high ; we 
were  in  the  open  sea,  and  the  boat  was  tossed 


122 


BERMUDA . 


like  a feather  by  the  great  waves  that  came 
rolling  in  from  beyond  the  reefs.  The  head- 
lands of  St.  David’s  are  precipitous  cliffs,  with 
deep  bays  and  curious  indented  caves.  One 
of  them  is  called  Cupid’s  Oven,  — a most 
maladroit  name,  for  the  little  god  would  be 
frightened  out  of  his  wits  by  the  mere  sight  of 
the  dark,  uncanny  hole.  Elsewhere  a door  is 
cut  in  the  high  ocean  wall.  Does  it  lead  down 
to  Hades  ? 

We  entered  the  narrows  just  beyond  the 
island,  and  the  oarsmen,  the  sail  being  lowered, 
pulled  along  the  coast  to  St.  George’s.  Here 
our  carriages  were  in  waiting,  and  we  drove 
home  by  the  way  of  Moore’s  Calabash  Tree,  in 
a dark,  secluded  glen.  The  poet,  it  is  said, 
was  wont  to  sit  here  and  sing  of  the  charms  of 
Bermudian  girls. 

A gay  deceiver  he ; for  while  writing  love- 
songs  to  “Nea,”  the  “ Rose  of  the  Isles,”  and 
praising  her  beauty  and  her  grace,  he  writes 
to  his  mother  thus  : — 

“ These  little  Bermuda  islands  form  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  romantic 
spots  that  I could  ever  have  imagined,  and  the 
descriptions  which  represent  it  as  a place  of 
fairy  enchantment  are  very  little  beyond  the 
truth.  From  my  window,  now  as  I write,  I can 
see  five  or  six  different  islands,  the  most  dis- 


BERMUDA. 


123 


tant  not  a mile  from  the  others.  They  are 
covered  with  cedar  groves,  through  the  vistas 
of  which  you  catch  a few  pretty  white  houses, 
which  my  practical  shortsightedness  always 
transforms  into  temples ; and  I often  expect  to 
see  nymphs  and  graces  come  tripping  from 
them,  when  to  my  great  disappointment  I find 
that  a few  miserable  negroes  are  all  the  4 bloomy 
flush  of  life  9 it  has  to  boast  of.  Indeed,  you 
must  not  be  surprised,  dear  mother,  if  I fall  in 
love  with  the  first  pretty  face  I see  on  my  re- 
turn home  ; for  certainly  the  human  face  divine 
has  degenerated  wonderfully  in  these  countries, 
and  if  I were  a painter  and  wished  to  preserve 
my  ideas  of  beauty  immaculate,  I would  not 
suffer  the  brightest  belle  of  Bermuda  to  be  my 
housemaid.” 

Why  will  people  preserve  their  old  letters  ? 

Moore  was  appointed  “ Registrar  to  the  Ad- 
miralty in  Bermuda  ” in  1803.  He  came  to 
the  islands  that  same  year,  but  returned  in 
1804,  leaving  a deputy  to  discharge  the  duties 
of  the  office.  In  relation  to  this,  he  writes  to 
the  same  correspondent : — 

. . . “ I shall  tell  you  at  once  that  it  is  not 
worth  my  while  to  remain  here.  ...  I acquit 
those  who  persuaded  me  to  come.  They  did 
not  know  about  the  situation.  Am  not  sorry 
I came.  The  appointment  is  respectable,  and 


124 


BERMUDA. 


a valuable  step  to  future  preferment.  The  Ber- 
muda court  has  few  causes  referred  to  it,  and 
even  a Spanish  war  would  not  make  my  income 
by  any  means  worth  staying  for.  However, 
there  are  two  American  ships  for  trial.  I have 
been  bettered  by  acquiring  knowledge  of  men 
and  affairs,  and  by  roughing  it.  Hope  you  and 
‘darling  father  ’ won’t  feel  disappointed  at  the 
damp  our  expectations  have  experienced.  . . . 
How  I shall  enjoy  dear  Katie’s  playing  when  I 
return  ! The  jingle  they  make  here  upon  things 
they  call  piano-fortes  is,  oh ! insupportable. 

. . . Your  own,  own,  affectionate  T.  M.” 

His  next  letter,  dated  January  24,  1804,  is 
sent  by  way  of  the  West  Indies,  and  announces 
that  he  expects  to  sail  for  England  in  May  or 
June.  It  reiterates  his  dislike  of  the  place. 
“ It  is  now  nearly  twelve  o’clock.  I have  just 
returned  from  a grand  turtle  feast,  and  am  full 
of  calipash  and  madeira.” 

Under  date  of  February  11,  he  complains 
that  he  had  not  heard  from  home,  by  letter  or 
newspaper,  for  five  months,  and  still  harps 
upon  the  poor  position  and  the  Spanish  war. 
But,  he  adds,  “ It  is  impossible  to  be  ill  in  such 
a climate.  Roses  are  in  full  bloom  here  now, 
and  my  favorite  green  peas  smoke  every  day 
upon  the  table.  ...  I have  been  very  fortu- 
nate here  (as  indeed  Providence  seems  to 


BERMUDA. 


125 


please  I should  be  everywhere)  in  conciliat- 
ing friendship  and  interesting  those  around 
me  in  my  welfare.  The  admiral,  Sir  Andrew 
Mitchell,  has  insisted  upon  my  making  his 
table  my  own  during  my  stay  here,  and  has 
promised  to  take  me  in  his  ship  to  America 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  a passage  to  Eng- 
land, — there  being  no  direct  conveyance  from 
this  corner  thither.  . . . They  threaten  me 
here  with  impeachment,  as  being  in  a fair  way 
to  make  bankrupts  of  the  whole  island.  There 
has  been  nothing  but  gayety  since  I came,  and 
there  was  never  such  a furor  of  dissipation 
known  in  the  town  of  St.  George’s  before. 
The  music  parties  did  not  keep  long  up,  be- 
cause they  found  they  were  obliged  to  trust  to 
me  for  their  whole  orchestra;  but  the  dances 
have  been  innumerable,  and  still  continue  with 
great  spirit  indeed.  The  women  dance  in  gen- 
eral extremely  well,  though,  like  Dogberry’s 
‘ writing  and  reading,’ it  comes  by  nature  to 
them,  for  they  never  have  any  instruction  ex- 
cept when  some  flying  dancing-master,  by  the 
kindness  of  fortune,  happens  to  be  wrecked 
and  driven  ashore  on  the  island.  Poor  things  ! 
I have  real  pity  for  them.” 

Dancing,  feasting,  making  love  td  the  girls 
for  whom  he  had  such  pity,  bewailing  his  fate, 
and  talking  about  a war  with  Spain,  which  he 


126 


BERMUDA. 


seems  to  have  desired  above  all  things,  varied 
by  fits  of  enthusiasm  over  the  wonderful  color- 
ing of  the  Bermudian  seas,  his  days  went  on, 
until  he  writes  from  New  York  under  date  of 
May  7,  1804  : — 

“ Here  I am  after  a passage  of  nine  days 
from  Bermuda,  never  better,  and  novelty  keeps 
me  in  bustle.  Such  a place  ! such  a people ! 
Barren  and  secluded  as  poor  Bermuda  is,  I 
think  it  a Paradise  to  any  spot  in  America  I 
have  ever  seen.” 

The  mercurial  poet  seems  to  have  been 
rather  hard  to  suit. 

To  go  back  for  one  moment  to  our  day’s  ex^ 
cursion.  In  the  long,  and  for  our  men  hard, 
trip,  we  did  not  hear  from  them  one  loud  word, 
much  less  an  oath.  The  captain,  a handsome 
young  negro,  gave  his  orders  by  a look,  a word, 
a sign,  and  was  obeyed  as  quietly. 


XVI. 


Her  Majesty  does  not  provide  for  her  rep- 
resentatives in  Bermuda  very  luxurious  or  ele- 
gant mansions.  Neither  Mount  Langton,  the 
Government  House  as  it  is  called,  nor  Clar- 
ance  Hill,  the  Admiralty  House,  are  fine  build- 
ings. Indeed,  they  are  quite  the  opposite.  But 
both  places  are  beautifully  situated,  with  fine 
grounds  and  extensive  gardens ; and  what  does 
it  matter  if  the  house  be  fine  or  otherwise, 
when  one  lives  out-of-doors  ? The  bougainvil- 
lea or  bourganvillier  — the  name  of  the  vine 
was  spelled  for  me  in  both  ways  by  those  who 
were  supposed  to  know  how  — that  covers  the 
thirty-foot  wall  of  the  long  avenue  leading  to 
the  Government  House  with  a glory  of  crimson 
bloom  such  as  no  wwds  can  paint  is  enough 
in  itself  to  compensate  for  many  lacks  in  draw- 
ing-room and  boudoir. 

Invitations  came  one  day.  “ Mrs.  Gallway 
— At  home  — Saturday,  April  21,  from  three  to 
six.”  To  this  were  added  the  cabalistic  words 
“Lawn  Tennis.” 

Would  we  go  ? Of  course  we  would,  if  only 


128 


BERMUDA . 


for  the  sake  of  having  another  look  at  that 
vine,  and  at  the  large  lemon-tree  whose  golden 
lamps  were  a perpetual  marvel. 

A somewhat  stately  “gentleman  in  black  ” 
awaited  us  at  the  portal  of  the  low,  rambling 
yellow  house  that  rejoices  in  the  name  of 
Mount  Langton,  took  our  cards,  and  piloted  us 
through  the  mazes  of  the  grounds  to  the  great 
lawn,  where  Mrs.  Gallway  and  her  daughters 
were  “ receiving.”  A fine  regimental  band  dis- 
coursed eloquent  music  from  a wooded  hill 
at  our  left.  Below  us  were  the  tennis  courts, 
where  the  gay  combatants  were  already  at  war. 
Clumps  of  palms,  cedars,  and  pride-of-India 
trees  gave  an  abundance  of  pleasant  shade; 
and  beneath  were  tables  spread  with  dainty 
fare  and  gay  with  fruits  and  flowers,  for  such 
as  did  not  care  to  go  to  the  house  for  afternoon 
tea.  Mrs.  Gallway,  a pale  little  lady  in  black, 
with  a gentle,  refined  face,  received  her  guests 
with  simple  courtesy ; but  being  in  frail  health 
she  soon  disappeared,  leaving  them  to  their 
own  devices. 

It  was  a pretty  sight,  the  uniforms  of  the 
officers,  the  black  coats  of  the  civilians,  and 
the  light  dresses  of  the  ladies  mingling  in 
happy  contrast,  while  the  swift-footed  tennis 
players  kept  up  a changeful  kaleidoscopic  stir 
of  light  and  color.  Rustic  seats  in  abundance 


BERMUDA  129 

gave  opportunity  for  rest  and  pleasant  chat- 
tings. 

“ There  are  many  pretty  girls  in  this  little 
island,”  I remarked  to  a Bermudian  lady ; my 
eye  wandering  from  one  graceful  group  to  an- 
other, and  my  mind  reverting  to  Tom  Moore's 
disparaging  judgment.  But  she  answered,  with 
a smile,  — 

“ Indeed,  all  the  really  pretty  girls  you  see 
here  are  Americans.  We  lose  our  good  looks 
very  young.  We  lose  our  complexions.  But 
the  American  girls  are  beautiful,  and  they  have 
such  charming  manners.” 

I bowed  my  acknowledgments  for  this  com- 
pliment to  my  young  countrywomen. 

“ But  why  is  it  ? ” I asked,  replying  to  what 
she  had  said  of  her  own.  “ Not  that  I admit 
the  truth  of  your  assertion  ; but  allowing  that 
it  is  true,  how  do  you  explain  it  ? ” 

“ In  many  ways,”  she  answered.  “ It  is 
owing  to  the  saltness  of  the  air,  no  doubt,  and 
to  the  sun,  and  the  white  roads.  Then  we  live 
on  the  water.  We  are  at  sea  always  in  Ber- 
muda ; and  you  know  how  even  a voyage  across 
the  Atlantic  darkens  one.  Our  voyage  lasts 
forever.” 

“ I have  discovered  one  thing,”  I said,  glanc- 
ing at  a group  of  young  girls  whose  rebellious 
tresses  were  flying  in  the  wind,  and  tucking  a 
9 


130 


BERMUDA. 


straightened  lock  of  my  own  behind  my  veil. 
“ Whatever  else  women  can  do  in  Bermuda, 
they  can’t  keep  their  hair  in  crimp.  But  they 
can  wear  fresh  roses  all  the  year  round,  which 
is  far  better.” 

Just  then  the  rising  wind  soughed  and  sighed 
through  the  palms  and  cedars,  increasing  in 
strength  until  we  older  folk  were  fain  to  seek 
the  shelter  of  the  broad  verandas,  and  refresh 
ourselves  with  tea  and  sponge  cakes.  Who 
won  the  games  that  day  I never  knew. 

Not  long  after  this,  half  a dozen  persons, 
three  of  whom  at  least  were  not  in  a very  hi- 
larious mood,  were  waiting  on  the  dock  with 
wraps  and  waterproofs.  A sail-boat  was  mak- 
ing its  swift  way  towards  them. 

“ Is  everything  packed  ? ” asked  one  of  the 
party.  “ Are  you  all  ready  ? ” 

“ Everything,”  was  the  answer,  — “ shells, 
corals,  sea-fans,  palmetto  work,  cedar  boxes, 
charcoal  sketches,  and  all.  We  are  ready  for 
the  flitting,  having  determined  long  ago  that 
sink  or  swim,  survive  or  perish,  we  would 
leave  this  afternoon  free  for  our  last  sail.  But 
here  comes  the  boat.  This  is  your  water- 
proof, Hetty.  Careful  now,  Miss  Alice.  There 
you  are  ! Mrs.  Blank,  you  will  need  your  sun 
umbrella.  Hold  on  a minute,  skipper,  till  I get 
that  basket.” 


BERMUDA . 


131 

“ This  is  a curious  arrangement,”  said  Nemo, 
looking  about  him  critically.  “ We  have  been 
in  row-boats,  whale-boats,  flat-boats,  ferry-boats, 
open  yachts,  and  steam-tugs,  to  say  nothing  of 
steam-ships.  But,  Lady  Mither,  this  is  cer- 
tainly the  very  first  time  that  you  and  I ever 
went  to  sea  in  a tub.” 

“ Like  the  three  wise  men  of  Gotham,” 
quoth  I.  “ Only  their  tub  was  a bowl.  But  do 
you  mean  to  say  I have  got  to  get  into  that  — 
I don’t  know  what  to  call  it  — that  square  ori- 
fice in  the  middle  ? ” 

“ Certainly,  Lady  Mither.  That ’s  the  cabin. 
The  thing  is  what  they  call  4 flush-decked,’  and 
it  has  no  gunwale.  You  can  sit  on  the  roof  if 
you  please,  but  as  there  is  a good  stiff  wind 
you  ’ll  be  more  comfortable  down  here.” 

He  gave  me  his  hand,  and  I descended  a 
flight  of  steep  steps  into  the  little  cabin.  The 
six  — no,  eight  — of  us  filled  it  completely;  and 
as  we  stood  in  a clustered  group,  the  heads  only, 
of  the  shorter  ones,  the  heads  and  shoulders 
of  the  taller,  were  above  board.  We  were  lit- 
erally in  a deep  tub  with  sails.  But  the 
strange  creature  fairly  flew  down  the  bay,  rush- 
ing through  the  tortuous  channels  and  avoiding 
the  hidden  reefs  as  if  by  the  help  of  magic. 

Accidents,  it  is  said,  occur  very  rarely  in 
these  waters,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  both 


132 


BERMUDA. 


the  yachts  and  the  little  open  boats  called 
“ dingeys  ” carry  an  enormous  amount  of  can- 
vas. Every  Bermudian  boy  learns  to  manage 
a boat  as  he  learns  to  walk  or  to  whistle.  It 
“ comes  by  nature  ; ” and  by  the  time  he  is  fairly 
into  trousers  he  is  also  into  something  that  can 
float.  The  Royal  Bermuda  Yacht  Club  and 
an  Amateur  Boating  Club  are  very  popular, 
and  their  periodic  races  make  gala  days  for 
the  whole  island.  The  “ event  of  the  year  ” is 
the  race  for  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh’s  “cup.” 
On  one  of  these  occasions  a yacht  of  under  five 
tons,  and  of  only  sixteen  feet  keel,  carried  a 
stretch  of  canvas  measuring  fifty-eight  and 
a half  feet  from  side  to  side ; and  a dingey  of 
ten  feet  keel,  when  running  before  the  wind, 
carried  by  actual  measurement  a spread  of 
forty-two  feet. 

I am  too  entirely  a landswoman  to  know 
whether  these  figures  are  remarkable  or  not. 
But  as  the  men  seemed  to  think  them  so,  I give 
them  for  what  they  are  worth. 

On  we  flew  for  miles,  winding  in  and  out 
among  the  islands  of  the  Great  Sound.  But 
neither  the  swift,  inspiring  motion  nor  the  wine- 
like air  drove  the  unwonted  shadow  from  cer- 
tain faces. 

“ Homesick,  already  ? ” I said  to  one  dole- 
ful individual. 


BERMUDA. 


133 


“ Yes,  I am,”  he  answered,  bluntly.  “ That ’s 
the  worst  of  coming  to  Bermuda,  — that  one 
must  go  away  again.  Look  at  that  water  ! Did 
you  ever  see  anything  like  it  ? Throw  all  the 
sapphires  and  rubies  and  emeralds  and  ame- 
thysts in  the  world  into  one  vast  crucible,  and 
melt  them  up,  and  you  might  get  something 
that  would  approach  it — at  a distance.” 

“ Yes,  but  you  would  need  to  add  the  yellow 
topaz  and  the  flash  of  diamonds,  also,”  I said. 

“ And  showers  of  pearls,  like  hoar-frost,  and 
broken  rainbows  without  number.  One  can’t 
put  it  into  words  ! Why  should  we  try  ? ” 

“ Yet  through  all  the  shifting  play  of  color, 
how  the  pure  blue  predominates ! Blue  above, 
and  blue  below.  It  is  as  if  we  were  living  in 
the  heart  of  a sapphire.” 

Does  this  seem  like  exaggeration  ? 

But  it  is  not.  One  learns  to  be  chary  in  the 
use  of  adjectives,  to  beware  of  telling  the  whole 
truth,  lest  he  should  seem  to  color  the  word 
picture  too  warmly.  Blue  ! blue  ! blue ! If  the 
printer  whose  fate  it  is  to  put  these  sheets  in 
type  finds  his  font  exhausted  of  Us,  and  /’s, 
and  u’ s,  and  e’s,  it  is  not  my  fault,  but  the  fault 
of  Bermudian  seas  and  skies. 

“ How  did  you  people  happen  to  come 
here  ? ” I asked  that  evening,  addressing  one 
member  of  a party  who  had  traveled  very 


134 


BERMUDA. 


widely.  “ Was  it  because  Bermuda  happened 
to  be  the  only  spot  on  the  habitable  globe  un- 
trodden by  your  adventurous  feet?  ” 

“ Not  exactly,”  he  answered,  laughing.  “ We 
have  not  been  quite  everywhere,  yet.  But  one 
thing  we  are  all  agreed  upon  : nowhere  have  we 
found  within  the  compass  of  nineteen  square 
miles  so  much  that  was  novel,  beautiful,  and 
interesting,  with  such  air  and  such  sunshine 
and  such  peace,  as  we  have  found  just  here.” 


XVII. 


One  can’t  get  lost  in  Bermuda.  Walk  where 
you  will,  or  drive,  if  you  dare,  — for  Bermu- 
dians turn  to  the  left,  and  Americans  are  apt 
to  come  to  grief,  — you  will  be  sure  to  come  out 
in  sight  of  some  well-known  landmark.  Never 
to  be  forgotten  is  one  bright  afternoon,  when 
two  of  us  drove  all  by  ourselves  to  Knapton 
Hill  and  Spanish  Rock.  , 

Tethering  our  horse  to  a convenient  tree, 
we  walked  to  the  latter  through  a pleasant 
cedar  grove  on  the  hillside,  intersected  by 
winding  paths  that  apparently  had  no  object  in 
life  save  to  wander  at  their  own  sweet  will. 
Birds  were  singing,  wild  flowers  blooming  at 
our  feet;  we  were  shut  in  from  all  sight  or 
sound  of  the  sea,  and  again  we  were  forcibly 
reminded  of  our  northland,  and  the  evergreen 
hills  so  far  away. 

But  presently  we  came  out  by  a brackish 
sort  of  pond,  that  was  very  unlike  our  clear, 
cold,  sparkling,  mountain  lakes.  Its  sandy 
shores  were  completely  riddled  with  crab-holes. 
Beyond  it  were  bold,  ragged  rocks  and  beetling 


BERMUDA. 


136 

crags,  over  and  round  which  we  made  our  diffi- 
cult way,  to  be  repaid  by  the  wildest  and  grand- 
est sea-view  in  Bermuda. 

From  the  far  horizon  the  great,  strong  waves 
came  sweeping  in  impetuously,  a mighty  host, 
dashing  madly  against  the  resistless  rocky  bar- 
rier that  barred  their  way,  and  in  impotent 
rage  and  dying  passion  leaping  wildly  as  to 
mid-heaven. 

Just  so,  with  just  such  frantic  fury,  did  they 
storm  and  shout  when,  centuries  ago,  a Spanish 
ship  went  down  before  them,  and  Ferdinand 
Camelo,  escaping  as  by  a miracle,  carved  his 
name  and  a rude  cross,  with  the  date  1543, 
upon  this  “ Spanish  Rock.” 

Sacred,  too,  is  the  memory  of  another  day, 
when,  in  the  same  delightfully  independent 
fashion,  we  went  to  Spanish  Point  (which,  by 
the  way,  must  not  be  confounded  with  Spanish 
Rock,  one  being  on  the  North  Shore  and  the 
other  on  the  South),  intending  to  spend  an  hour 
upon  the  shining  beach.  But  when  we  got 
there  it  was  flood  tide,  and  the  whole  broad 
expanse  was  under  water. 

So  turning  back,  we  stopped  for  a while  to 
hold  a laughing  interview  with  the  funniest 
little  donkey  in  the  world,  a diminutive  crea- 
ture tethered  by  the  roadside,  that  tugged  at 
its  rope  in  a frantic  effort  to  approach  us,  all 


BERMUDA. 


137 


the  while  braying  terrifically.  How  so  small  a 
beast  coulcl  make  so  great  a noise  was  past  all 
comprehension.  After  vain  attempts  to  con- 
sole him  with  comfits  of  fresh  grass  and  lovely 
yellow  thistles,  we  left  him  to  his  lonely  lot, 
and,  having  reached  a cross-road  just  in  front 
of  Admiralty  House,  crossed  the  island  to  the 
North  Shore. 

The  water  was  so  marvelously  clear  that  from 
cliffs  forty  feet  above  the  sea  we  could  count 
the  shells  and  pebbles  lying  twenty  feet  be- 
neath it. 

As  we  drove  slowly  along,  feeling  it  was  joy 
enough  just  to  be  alive  in  that  soft,  enchanted 
air,  and  within  sight  of  the  far-stretching  sea, 
that  was  as  tranquil  and  placid  that  day  as  if 
it  had  never  so  much  as  dreamed  of  luring  the 
sons  of  men  to  destruction,  an  unwonted  com- 
motion on  the  rocks  below  us  brought  us  to  a 
standstill.  What  was  going  on  ? 

England  was  on  the  alert,  as  usual,  and  had 
discovered  an  unprotected  point  in  her  do- 
mains. Another  cannon  was  to  be  planted  on 
this  coast  instanter.  But  judging  from  the  fuss 
that  was  made  in  unloading  it,  and  from  the 
delays  and  the  unhandiness  of  the  procedures, 
in  spite  of  the  frantic  excitement  of  a fat  man, 
who  had  doffed  his  red  coat  and  was  flying 
about  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  the  feat  seemed 


BERMUDA. 


138 

likely  to  be  accomplished  in  Bermudian  rather 
than  English  fashion. 

“If  we  come  this  way  again  in  the  course  of 
a year  or  two,  that  weapon  of  war  will  be  in 
place,”  said  Nemo.  “But  suppose  we  go  on 
now.” 

By  and  by  we  turned  off  into  a road  that  was 
new  to  us,  leading  up  a hill,  and  lined  with 
oleanders,  pink,  white,  and  crimson,  as  large 
as  good-sized  apple-trees.  We  did  not  know 
where  it  led,  nor  did  we  care.  But  we  came 
out  at  last  near  the  old  church  in  Devonshire, 
an  ivy-covered  ruin.  Having  been  warned 
that  the  roof  might  fall,  we  did  not  go  inside, 
but  through  the  broken  windows  we  saw  the 
crumbling  walls,  from  which  the  precious  tab- 
lets had  been  removed,  the  dilapidated  pews, 
and  the  high  pulpit  with  antique  hangings, 
faded  and  hoary.  In  one  of  the  aisles  was 
stowed  away  a ghastly  hearse  and  a tottering 
bier,  on  which,  no  doubt,  many  generations  of 
the  dead  who  were  [sleeping  so  soundly,  hard 
by,  had  been  borne  to  their  last  rest.  I turned 
away  with  a shudder. 

But  without,  how  sweet  and  still  it  was  ! It 
was  late  afternoon.  Not  a sound  reached  us, 
not  even  the  lapsing  of  the  waves.  Only  now 
and  then  a lone  bird  twittered  softly,  or  the 
winds  sighed  in  the  palm-trees.  Great  gray 


BERMUDA. 


139 


tombs  lay  all  around,  like  huge  sarcophagi,  and 
stretched  far  up  the  hill,  weird  and  sombre  in 
the  light  of  dying  day.  Perhaps  it  was  against 
the  rules,  — I don’t  know,  — but  with  a great 
lump  in  my  throat,  and  a tender  thought  of  the 
little  unknown  sleeper,  I picked  a rose  from  a 
bush  that  was  heaping  a child’s  grave  with  its 
fragrant  petals.  If  it  was  a sin,  I here  make 
full  confession,  and  crave  absolution  from  the 
baby’s  mother  ! Rose  geraniums  grew  wild  in 
great  profusion,  making  the  air  sweet  with  their 
strong  perfume.  It  is  called  in  Bermuda  the 
graveyard  geranium,”  and  I was  told  that 
pillows  for  coffined  heads  are  filled  with  the 
fragrant  leaves.  An  immense  but  dying  cedar 
— the  oldest  on  the  islands  — stands  near  the 
church,  and  was  formerly  used  as  a bell-cote. 
The  trunk  is  hollow,  and  inside  it  two  vigorous 
young  trees  are  growing. 

More  than  one  rainy  morning  we  spent  in  the 
public  library,  established  in  1839,  poring  over 
curious  old  books  and  quaint  records  ; but  we 
were  especially  interested  in  the  files  of  the 
“ Royal  Gazette”  in  bound  volumes,  running 
back  precisely  a hundred  years.  Turning  over 
the  yellow  leaves  one  day,  I came  across,  under 
the  head  of  “Latest  American  News,”  a thrill- 
ing account  of  the  difficulties  between  the  New 
Yorkers  and  the  Green  Mountain  boys,  and  of 


140 


BERMUDA. 


a conflict  at  Brattleboro,  under  Colonel  Wait. 
The  “ Royal  Gazette  ” still  lives,  a quaint  little 
sheet  which  looks  like  a fac-simile  of  an  Amer- 
ican paper  of  the  last  century.  You  can  buy  it 
for  a sixpence,  and  read  it  through,  advertise- 
ments and  all,  in  twenty  minutes. 

There  are  no  springs  in  Bermuda,  and  the 
great  water-tanks  are  conspicuous  objects  every- 
where. Built  of  heavy  stone,  cool,  dark,  and 
entered  solely  by  a door  in  the  side  which  ad- 
mits the  bucket,  the  water  they  contain  is  lim- 
pid and  delicious.  Every  householder  is  com- 
pelled by  law  to  have  a tank,  and  to  keep  it  in 
good  repair. 

Another  thing  that  attracts  attention  is  the 
animals  tethered  here,  there,  and  everywhere. 
You  see  donkeys,  goats,  cows,  even  cats,  hens, 
and  turkeys,  — these  last  drooping  sulkily,  or 
swelling  with  outraged  dignity,  — confined  by 
the  inevitable  tether.  Noticing  the  strange 
manoeuvres  of  a hen  in  an  inclosure  near  the 
road,  I stopped  to  investigate,  and  discovered 
that  she  was  tied  by  a cord  two  yards  long  to 
another  hen.  Their  gyrations  and  flutterings 
were  attempts  to  walk  in  opposite  directions, 
— a pair  of  unaccommodating  Siamese  twins. 


XVIII. 


But  time  would  fail  to  tell  of  all  that  filled 
our  Bermudian  days  with  a,  satisfying,  restful 
delight : of  trips  on  the  Moondyne  ; of  moonlit 
walks  to  Hungry  Bay,  when  the  spray  was  hoar- 
frost and  the  waves  were  rippled  silver ; of  Sat- 
urday mornings  at  Prospect,  to  see  the  fine 
drill  of  the  Royal  Irish  Rifles ; of  amateur 
theatricals  given  by  the  officers  and  their  wives 
in  the  rickety  old  theatre  ; of  pleasant  hours  in 
Bermudian  homes;  of  kindly  greetings  and 
warm  hand-clasps.  Shall  I ever  forget  a cer- 
tain “ afternoon  tea,”  where  we  were  served  in 
the  shaded  balcony  by  the  five  fair  daughters 
of  the  house,  while  the  happy  and  handsome 
mother  smiled  serenely,  and  took  her  ease  with 
the  rest  of  us  ; or  a morning  in  a quaint  old 
place  at  Point  Shear,  where  a lovely  lady  and 
the  dearest  of  little  boys  opened  their  hearts 
as  well  as  their  home  to  their  stranger  guest, 
giving  her  some  never-to-be-forgotten  glimpses 
of  the  treasures  in  each  ? Can  I ever  forget 
the  little  Abacado  pear-tree,  and  the  bath- 
house, like  a fairy’s  grotto,  and  the  shells  and 


142 


BERMUDA. 


corals  lavished  upon  me  with  such  sweet  per- 
suasion, or  lose  the  fragrance  of  the  roses  I 
bore  away  with  me  ? They  faded  long  ago, 
but  their  perfume  lives  on.  And  shall  I ever 
cease  to  remember  the  mangroves,  looking  for 
all  the  world  like  tipsy  bacchanalians,  that  in 
some  way  always  reminded  me  of  Saxe  Holm’s 
story  of  the  “ One-Legged  Dancers  ” ? 

A few  last  words  as  to  the  climate.  It  is 
somewhat  capricious,  but  is  never  really  cold. 
Bermuda  has  no  frosts.  Yet  during  seven 
weeks,  beginning  in  March  and  ending  in  May, 
we  were  in  no  need  of  thin  summer  clothing. 
The  mercury  in  winter  seldom  falls  below  6o°. 
In  the  height  of  summer  it  is  seldom  above  85°, 
and  there  is  always  the  breeze  from  the  sea. 
When  it  blows  from  the  southwest,  Bermudi- 
ans stay  within  doors,  and  remain  quiet  till  it 
changes.  Tropical  plants  thrive,  not  because 
it  is  hotter  than  with  us  in  summer,  but  because 
they  are  never  winter-killed. 

Bermuda  is  7iot  the  place  for  consumptives. 
But  for  the  overworked  and  weary,  for  those 
who  need  rest  and  recreation  and  quiet  amuse- 
ment, for  those  who  love  the  beauty  of  sea  and 
sky  better  than  noisy  crowds  and  fashionable 
display,  and  can  dispense  with  some  accus- 
tomed conveniences  for  the  sake  of  what  they 
may  gain  in  other  ways,  it  is  truly  a paradise. 


BERMUDA . 


143 


This  paradise  has  one  great  advantage  over 
other  paradises,  — an  advantage  it  must  retain 
for  many  years,  if  not  forever.  Its  very  inac- 
cessibility, being  reached  only,  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  by  a semi-monthly 
steamer  from  New  York,  an  occasional  ship 
from  Halifax,  and  a stray  sailing-vessel  now 
and  then,  puts  it  quite  apart  from  the  thorough- 
fare of  travel.  It  can  never  be  overrun  by  a 
noisy,  promiscuous,  tumultuous  rabble.  It  must 
always  have  the  subtile,  indefinable  charm  of 
remoteness. 

The  cost  of  first-cabin  passage  from  New 
York  to  Bermuda,  including  a return  ticket 
good  for  six  months,  is  $50  in  gold.  It  is  a 
three  days’  voyage.  There  being  but  one  line 
of  steamers,  there  is  of  course  no  competition 
and  no  choice.  On  every  alternate  Thursday 
during  the  winter  months,  the  Quebec  Steam- 
ship Company  (A.  E.  Outerbridge  & Co., 
agents,  51  Broadway)  invite  you  to  embark 
on  their  staunch  little  steamer,  the  Oronoco. 
You  can  do  so,  or  you  can  stay  at  home.  Dur- 
ing April,  May,  and  June,  when  freight  is 
heaviest,  the  Flamborough  runs  in  connection 
with  the  Oronoco,  thus  making  a weekly  ser- 
vice and  giving  the  interested  tourist  a chance 
to  choose  between  the  two.  I venture  to  say 
that  after  having  made  one  tour  of  inspection 
it  will  not  take  him  long  to  decide. 


144 


BERMUDA. 


The  passage  is  proverbially  disagreeable, 
but  it  is  not  dangerous,  and  it  has  the  comfort 
of  being  short.  You  may  be  seasick;  indeed, 
you  probably  will  be.  But  horribly  as  you  may 
be  rolled  about  and  tossed  about  in  crossing 
the  Gulf  Stream,  you  are  in  little  danger  of 
drowning.  The  great  horror  of  mid-ocean 
travel,  a collision,  is  hardly  to  be  thought  of, 
much  less  dreaded,  in  the  lonely  waters  through 
which  the  gallant  little  vessels  plough  their 
sturdy  way ; and  ere  they  reach  the  perilous 
reefs  they  are  in  the  hands  of  trusty  pilots,  who 
know  the  tortuous  channels  inch  by  inch. 

Connection  is  made  at  Bermuda  with  the 
Royal  Mail  steamers  for  Halifax  and  Jamaica, 
which  leave  monthly. 

The  expense  of  living  in  the  islands  is  of 
course  dependent  in  a great  degree  upon  indi- 
vidual tastes  and  habits.  In  ordinary  cases  it 
ranges  from  $2.00  to  $3.50  a day  for  board  and 
lodging. 

The  two  largest  and  best  hotels  in  Hamil- 
ton are  the  Hamilton  Hotel  and  the  Ameri- 
can House ; but  there  are  several  smaller 
ones  that  are  said  to  be  comfortable.  At  St. 
George’s  the  inns  are  the  Globe  and  the 
Bermuda  House.  Speculators  have  not  yet 
been  induced  to  build  large  houses  or  cottages 
for  the  especial  use  of  tourists  but  in  Hamil- 


BERMUDA. 


145 

ton,  St.  George’s,  Smiths,  the  Flatts,  and 
Somerset  private  quarters  can  be  had,  and  an 
occasional  cottage,  furnished  or  unfurnished. 
Messrs.  Trott  & Cox,  the  Bermuda  agents  of 
the  Quebec  Steamship  Company,  will  furnish 
all  necessary  information  on  these  points. 

I was  told  it  was  possible  to  obtain  fair  ac- 
commodations in  the  country  for  $10  a week, 
but  confess  I encountered  no  one  who  had 
made  the  venture. 

The  cost  of  excursions  is  comparatively  tri- 
fling. You  can  get  a good  horse,  carriage,  and 
driver  for  the  trip  to  St.  George’s  and  back  — 
about  twenty-four  miles  in  all,  and  a good  day’s 
work  — for  twelve  (English)  shillings,  or  three 
dollars.  Nemo’s  famous  visit  to  Chubb’s  Cut, 
which  is  farther  out  than  excursionists  are  apt 
to  go,  cost  for  the  whole  party  of  three  the  enor- 
mous sum  of  eighteen  shillings.  You  can  hire 
a whale-boat  and  three  oarsmen  for  the  day  for 
one  pound.  You  cross  the  ferry  for  a penny 
ha’penny.  You  pay  a shilling  or  two  for  a trip 
on  the  Moondyne.  And  you  can  peep  into  all 
the  caves  you  want  to  for  a shilling  apiece. 

There  are  no  Stewarts  or  Hoveys  in  Ber- 
muda, yet  by  hook  or  by  crook  you  can  get 
hold  of  whatever  is  really  necessary  in  the  way 
of  replenishing  a dilapidated  wardrobe,  or  sup- 
plying  yourself  with  little  comforts  and  con- 
10 


BERMUDA. 


146 

veniences  for  the  person  or  toilet.  American 
goods,  duty  included,  cost  very  little  more  than 
with  us. 

English  goods  are,  of  course,  cheaper.  Dress- 
making, I w^as  told,  was  w^ell  done,  and  at  fab- 
ulously low  prices. 


My  story  of  Bermudian  days  is  ended.  It 
was  our  last  evening.  Trunks  were  packed, 
and  on  the  morrow  we  would  be  off. 

“ There  is  just  time  for  one  more  row,”  said 
Nemo,  looking  at  his  watch,  and  then  glancing 
at  the  dismantled  room.  “ Put  on  your  bonnet, 
Lady  Mither,  and  let  us  go  down  to  the  dock 
and  see  if  we  can  find  Williams.” 

We  found  him ; and  as  we  glided  over  the 
beautiful  bay  for  the  last  time  to  the  soft  dip  of 
plashing  oars,  our  hearts,  if  not  our  lips,  sang 
this  farewell  song  to  Bermuda  and  her 


WHITE  LADY  OF  THE  PROW. 

The  salt  tides  ebb,  the  salt  tides  flow, 
From  the  near  isles  the  soft  airs  blow  ; 
From  leagues  remote,  with  roar  and  din, 
Over  the  reefs  the  waves  rush  in ; 

The  wild  white  breakers  foam  and  fret. 
Day  follows  day,  stars  rise  and  set ; 


BERMUDA. 


147 


Yet,  grandly  poised,  as  calm  and  fair 
As  some  proud  spirit  of  the  air, 

Unmoved  she  lifts  her  radiant  brow, — 

She,  the  White  Lady  of  the  Prow ! 

The  winds  blow  east,  the  winds  blow  west, 

From  woodlands  low  to  the  eagle’s  nest ; 

The  winds  blow  north,  the  winds  blow  south, 

To  steal  the  sweets  from  the  lily’s  mouth  ! 

W e come  and  go  ; we  spread  our  sails 
Like  sea-gulls  to  the  favoring  gales, 

Or,  soft  and  slow,  our  oars  we  dip 
Under  the  lee  of  the  stranded  ship. 

Yet  little  recks  she  when  or  how, 

The  grand  White  Lady  of  the  Prow. 

We  laugh,  we  love,  we  smile,  we  sigh, 

But  never  she  heeds  as  we  glide  by,  — 

Never  she  cares  for  our  idle  ways, 

Nor  turns  from  the  brink  of  the  world  her  gaze  ! 
What  does  she  see  when  her  steadfast  eyes 
Peer  into  the  sunset  mysteries, 

And  all  the  secrets  of  time  and  space 
Seem  unfolded  before  her  face  ? 

What  does  she  hear  when,  pale  and  calm, 

She  lists  for  the  great  sea’s  evening  psalm  ? 

Speak,  lady,  speak ! Thy  sealed  lip, 

Thou  fair  white  spirit  of  the  ship, 

Could  tell  such  tales  of  high  emprise, 

Of  valorous  deeds  and  counsels  wise  ! 

What  prince  shall  rouse  thee  from  thy  trance, 
And  meet  thy  first  revealing  glance, 

Or  what  Pygmalion  from  her  sleep 
Bid  Galatea  wake  and  weep  ? 


148 


BERMUDA. 


The  wave’s  wild  passion  stirs  thee  not,  — 
Oh,  is  thy  life’s  long  love  forgot  ? 

How  canst  thou  bear  this  tranced  calm 
By  sunlit  isles  of  bloom  and  balm,  — 

Thou  who  hast  sailed  the  utmost  seas, 
Empress  alike  of  wave  and  breeze ; 

Thou  who  hast  swept  from  pole  to  pole 
Where  the  great  surges  swell  and  roll, 
Breasted  the  billows  white  with  wrath, 
Rode  in  the  tempest’s  fiery  path, 

And  proudly  borne  to  waiting  hands 
The  glorious  spoil  of  farthest  lands  ? 

How  canst  thou  bear  this  silence,  deep 
And  tranquil  as  an  infant’s  sleep,  — 

Thou  who  hast  heard  above  thy  head 
The  white  sails  sing  with  wings  outspread  ; 
Thou  whose  strong  soul  has  thrilled  to  feel 
The  swift  rush  of  the  ploughing  keel, 

The  dash  of  waves,  and  the  wild  uproar 
Of  ocean  lashed  from  shore  to  shore  ? 

How  canst  thou  bear  this  changeless  rest, 
Thou  who  hast  made  the  world  thy  quest  ? 

O Lady  of  the  stranded  ship, 

Once  more  our  lingering  oars  we  dip 
In  the  clear  blue  that  round  thee  lies, 
Fanned  by  the  airs  of  Paradise  ! 

Farewell ! farewell  1 But  oft  when  day 
On  our  far  hill-tops  dies  away, 

And  night’s  cool  winds  the  pine-trees  bow, 
Our  eyes  will  see  thee,  even  as  now, 
Waiting  — a spirit  pale  and  calm  — 

To  hear  the  great  sea’s  evening  psalm  ! 


' 


T) 


Date  Due 


BERMUDA 


I • i 

ilvj  l dl,  t>Umi  r\i  > i , 


LIMITED . 


THE  PRINCESS  HOTEL  is  situated  on  a bold  and  rising  ele- 
vation at  the  southern  and  western  extremity  of  the  picturesque 
harbor  of  Hamilton  ; its  southern  or  sunny  frontage  is  built  almost 
on  the  water’s  edge,  but  the  highness  of  the  rocks,  which  are  the 
solid  foundation  of  the  main  structure,  preclude  the  possibility  of 
any  inconvenience  being  experienced  from  tempestuous  weather. 
The  building  for  guests,  irrespective  of  outhouses,  stands  on  an 
area  of  15,000  square  feet,  and  its  southern  face  is  some  140  feet 
long.  The  facilities  this  hotel  offers  for  the  thorough  enjoyment 
of  the  salt  water  is  one  of  its  greatest  charms  and  attractions. 
There  is  a covered  stone  piazza,  12  to  14  feet  wide,  running  the 
entire  length  of  the  building,  warmed  the  whole  day  by  the 
health-giving  sun,  affording  a sunny  promenade  for  the  invalid,  a 
seductive  resort  of  the  lounger,  the  smoker,  the  tired  yachtman, 
and  the  valetudinarian.  The  reception  room  is  a magnificent 
apartment,  forty  by  twenty  feet,  with  large  low  windows  and 
glass  doors  opening  on  the  southern  and  western  verandas  ; the 
views  from  here  are  superb.  In  keeping,  and  in  size  with  this 
commodious  apartment,  is  the  spacious  dining-hall,  sixty  by  forty 
feet.  There  are  upwards  of  eighty  bedrooms,  ranging  in  size 
from  twenty-three  by  sixteen  feet  to  twelve  by  sixteen  feet.  The 
edifice  will  be  gas-lighted  throughout. 

For  information,  terms  and  rooms,  apply  to 

A.  A.  JONES,  Manager,  Bermuda, 


— OR  TO  — 


A.  E.  OUTERBR1DGE  & CO.,  51  B’WAY,  N.  Y. 


• - 


16~ 


boston  college 


QUEBEC  STEAM:  Tffoilfol 


THE  NEW  YORK  AND  BERMUDA  LINE,  operated  by  the 
Quebec  Steamship  Co.,  has,  during  the  past  twelve  years,  built  up 
for  itself  a record  for  regularity,  safety  and  comfort  that  commends 
it  most  highly  to  the  travelling  public. 

The  Company  was  incorporated  in  1852,  and  has  held  four  suc- 
cessive contracts  with  the  Bermuda  government  for  carrying  the 
mails  to  and  from  New  York.  The  fleet  of  the  Company  consists 
exclusively  of  British-built  iron  steamships. 

Recognizing  the  unequalled  advantages  that  Bermuda  offers  to 
tourists,  invalids  arV-L_j-,  , - 

meet  the  wants  DOES  NOT  CIRC  'ULATE 

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